


The Beautiful Game

by anonymonypony



Series: The Beautiful Game [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst and Humor, Champions League, F/M, Football | Soccer, Homophobia in sports, M/M, Multi, Near Future, Nile is bi, Sexism in sports, Work In Progress, basically a sports anime, cute bite sized chapters, multi-year story arc, please read chapter notes for chapter specific content warnings, power of nakama, spoiler: booker discovers he is bi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 94
Words: 110,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymonypony/pseuds/anonymonypony
Summary: Update: We probably have approx 20 chapters left in this story! It's gonna end soon!The 2026 FIFA Men's World Cup Final is held in Los Angeles, USA, and in a repeat of events twenty years before, we have France vs Italy.Players to look out for in the final:FRANCE: Midfielder Sebastien LeLivre of James Copley's Liverpool FCITALY: Captain and centreback Nicolò Di Genova, of Andy Skifska's InternazionaleTune in, for a special pre-match analysis of the 2026 FIFA World Cup final featuring former Team USA star striker Nile Freeman.(this is The Old Guard as a sports anime, set in 2026 and beyond. we will see the power of nakama, and the main pairings are Book of Nile and Kaysanova, but we have an ensemble cast including Andy and Quynh, who are married to each other, and Lykon. Booker is 26 and Nile is 25 when we begin our fic. follow our protagonists as they go all over the world, from LA to Milan to Madrid and beyond, esp if covid's got you missing travel.)
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Beautiful Game [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121081
Comments: 605
Kudos: 238





	1. calcio

**Author's Note:**

> This AU ate my brain alive the moment I thought of it. It is unfortunately still WIP, but I have a sketch of the plot all the way to the end.
> 
> To "modernize" some of the character names for football, I'm gonna use, for this fic, LeLivre for Booker's surname, Al Kaysani for Joe, and Di Genova for Nicky's surname (capitalized that way). Andy is given the surname Skifska, which is just...Ukrainian for "of Scythia" in the female form. (TY iwaiko for correction)
> 
> This fic was pretty much written, in a very theoretical form, for L and M, who blessed us with the most perfect interpretation of Joe and Nicky, and the backstage photo of them playing football. In my mind, Captain Di Genova of Italy and Internazionale blends in some of L's more unhinged characters (Cesare, Lo Zingaro) in the form of a terrifying Classic Italian Hard Man, like Claudio Gentile, while Yusuf Al Kaysani of the Netherlands is the Gaetano Scirea to his Gentile. Together they have the perfect "steel and silk" defensive partnership, new heirs in the grand lineage of catenaccio, the Italian footballing defensive arts. I also wanna give a shoutout to Booker and Joe's football watching in the Charlie safe house.
> 
> This fic also owes a great debt to Gina Prince-Bythewood's Love and Basketball.
> 
> HMU for football/soccer explanations anytime. Unfortunately my English is a hot mess between US spelling and British terms but football people understand, I hope.
> 
> As a disclaimer, the fic is predominantly Nile and Booker POV, since Book of Nile is the main ship. Joe/Nicky are very important to this story tho, and where it makes sense I will have special chapters focusing on them.
> 
> For this AU, here are the character ages at the start of the fic, with the relative age differences roughly reflecting their "immortal age": Nile 25yo, Booker 26yo, Nicky 28yo, Yusuf 29yo, Andy 45yo. Nicky and Joe are born in the same year, but Joe's bday is early while Nicky's is in the later part of the year.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the year of our lord 2026, a Black woman is President of the United States, and football, as always, moves at a glacial pace, as if in a pre-global warming world.

FAREED  
And this marks the end of Holland’s run for the World Cup. With no new goals scored at extra time, we went into the penalty shootout, and oh, what a tense shootout it was. It’s Captain Di Genova that scores into the top corner, after de Haas missed for the Dutch team, bouncing off the top bar. The Dutch are crestfallen, and here, we have Di Genova comforting Al Kaysani with a hug—their defensive partnership for Inter Milan is one of the best, isn’t it? And in the sight we’re so accustomed to see in modern football, players form incredible bonds with their club teammates across national boundaries.

DIXON  
Italy loves Al Kaysani don’t they? They like to call him their adopted son.

FREEMAN  
Italy, after all, is the birthplace of catenaccio, and they appreciate a good defender like no one else. This is the country of Maldini, Cannavaro, Nesta...

DIXON  
My god, Al Kaysani really reminds one of the young Nesta, doesn’t he? So elegant with his clearances, and such incredible vision, starting plays from the back with that passing ability.

FAREED  
Yes—as a defender Al Kaysani departs the World Cup with no cards to his name—a testament to his tackling finesse.

DIXON  
It’s obvious why Di Genova loves him so, isn’t it? He is the Cannavaro to Al Kaysani’s Nesta… [sigh]

FREEMAN  
Speaking of Cannavaro, it is twenty years to the tournament that saw Italy win their fourth World Cup. This time, we have the imposing Di Genova leading the Azzuri into the finals—where they face, as in a repeat of 2006—a seasoned French team.

FAREED  
Some would say aging, but there’s no denying the strength of Les Bleus—champions in 2018, semi finalists in 2022, and now in 2026–in the Rose Bowl in Los Angeles—they have a chance at their third World Cup. The French team has the slight advantage of having an extra day of rest, and they concluded their match against Brazil decisively, without extra time. 

DIXON  
Yes, the obvious star of the French team is playmaker Sebastian LeLivre, who has flourished in the Premier League under manager James Copley for Liverpool. 

FAREED  
In him, we have the young Zidane, don’t we?

FREEMAN  
Yes—LeLivre, or as they call him in the Merseyside, Booker, is also born and bred in Marseilles. Zidane is his childhood idol—and taking a leaf out of his idol’s playbook, LeLivre has once stirred controversy for saying he doesn’t feel French—he’s just Marseillais.

FAREED  
Ooh, yes, when he’s losing, he’s le banditisme, but when he’s winning he’s French isn’t he?

DIXON  
Yes, yes—we shall see. [chuckles] With Booker and Di Genova on the pitch—let’s hope they let football do the talking. 

“—aaaand cut!” The director yells.

Nile heaves a sigh of relief, glad that the cameras have cut away. This is her first professional gig since chronic rheumatoid arthritis forced her into early retirement from playing the game she so loves. She had been holding out for a third World Cup next year, playing through pain to lead her team, FC Barcelona Femení, to the top of the table and a Champions League victory—but she has to give up on that dream now. Through some connections, Nile manages to work her way into a role as a budding studio analyst with NBC. A television gig analyzing the men’s game pays ludicrously well, enough to enrage Nile and yet—she has to do what it takes to survive, what with the expensive medical bills she will have to deal with for the rest of her life.

It is the year of our lord 2026, a Black woman is President of the United States, and football, as always, moves at a glacial pace, as if in a pre-global warming world.


	2. kickoff!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 2026 Men's FIFA World Cup Final begins! France vs Italy.

Nile is invited back to the panel for the men’s final. She was meant to be a one-time guest on the semifinal analysis, but the higher ups really appreciated Nile’s encyclopedic knowledge and her effort to convey this knowledge to the American audience. It would be remiss not to give her a spot, and Nile does have a reputation for being the nation’s sweetheart in the women’s run to a third consecutive final in the 2023 World Cup.

For the second time, Nile has to get used to—as the trashy tabloid rags like to put it— _pouring herself_ into a figure-hugging dress, and she has to go through hair and make-up, sitting in the studio for hours—it’s all so fussy and constricting, such a different world from the technical, engineered fabrics of the football kit, designed for maximum sweat-wicking movement. She sends a selfie of her herself to her mom—OOTD on full display, and then decides to post it on her social media. If she has to go through all this trouble to look good, she better damn well milk it for all it’s worth.

In the pre-match analysis, to her surprise, someone on the panel asks her for insight into player nerves before such a big final. You pretty much can’t sleep the night before—unless you’re not really human, Nile jokes. It segues into some banter on the panel, and then the lineups are announced. The thrum of the stadium is audible from the live feed, and god, that jolt of energy through Nile‘s veins—it thrills her to feed off the energy of the crowd and yet it hurts her to know she’s not the one playing, not anymore.

The day before, the third place match was settled in Mexico City, where the Netherlands beat Brazil 3-2. Dutch forward Marouane Idrissi scored early on, ten minutes into the game, and the lead was doubled by van den Berg shortly before halftime. Brazil made a comeback in the second half, Martinho with a screamer from a free kick, and then Vinícius coolly slotted in another one with his left foot. Edwin de Haas redeemed himself, and won the game with a header at the 78th minute. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, and at the post match interview, Al Kaysani rued his error that led to Brazil’s second goal, but shrugged it off saying he had fun with the Brazilians and he can relax and watch the final like a spectator. The interviewer reminded him that his good friend Di Genova is playing, at which Al Kaysani gave a tiny smile and simply said, “Forza, Nicolò, forza.”

The 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup Final is off to a start. There are the stirrings of some attacking plays from both sides, but they fizzle out in the final third. Halftime happens, and Nile and the other pundits have to find something to talk about, so they pull out all the statistics they can to pad out the halftime analysis for such a meager half. Both teams are playing it very cautiously, and the pace of the game is considerably slower than the exhilarating semifinals, each team biding their time for the perfect opportunity. At the 67th minute something finally happens. Di Genova fouls French forward Kylian Mbappé near the penalty box, which results in the referee issuing a penalty kick to the French. There is an uproar from the Italians, not least of all Di Genova, who is given a warning by the referee, with a wag of a pointed finger. VAR is called to settle the dispute, which invalidates the referee’s initial decision, proving Di Genova right. The referee has to award a free kick from the edge of the penalty box instead, which is decisively cleared by Di Genova and launched into the opposing half, starting a furious counterattack that culminates in an Italian goal by winger Lorenzo Cuomo. The French try their best to get the game back into play as quickly as they can, and then there is a commotion when a foul is once again called on Di Genova, this time for supposedly tripping LeLivre. Di Genova furiously protests that LeLivre is diving. The referee warns Di Genova that he is on thin ice, and awards the French a free kick. Di Genova then moves to help the fallen LeLivre off the ground, but this is where things get gnarly.

Reports say Di Genova scoffed at LeLivre when pulling him up, saying he should win an award for his acting, which prompted LeLivre to say something provocative to Di Genova, which resulted in Di Genova headbutting LeLivre to the ground. All Nile knows is—seeing the headbutt happen real-time on camera, and gasping aloud in the studio with her coworkers. If ever there is proof that history moves in cycles, surely this is it—a variation of the infamous 2006 altercation. Within the studio, one of the pundits begins to chastise Di Genova for this completely irresponsible behavior in a World Cup final—Di Genova is the captain, and the lynchpin in the defence—he will be sent off for something like this, leaving his team exposed and hanging by a thread on their single goal.

The crowd jeers Di Genova off the field, and the Italians have to play with 10 men. By this point there are 15 minutes left to the game, and the atmosphere is so charged with palpable tension even Nile has to squirm in her seat. To borrow a phrase from a legendary football manager, it’s squeaky bum time.

Ultimately, the Italians manage to hold off the French, despite very good attempts at goal, and six minutes of added time. Di Genova has to suffer the distinction of not being able to collect the World Cup medal, and, being banned from the stadium, he has to watch, through a screen, his very team lift the World Cup trophy without him.


	3. call my agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the off-season, Booker receives a call from his agent while on vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: the word b*tch is used several times in this chapter

The thing is, everyone knows you don’t mess with Nicolò Di Genova of Internazionale. That guy is a tough nut. Cut from the same rock as Puyol, Vidic, Kompany, where hard men are mined from the sturdiest materials on this earth. At least off the pitch Cannavaro is known for his beautiful smile and those twinkling eyes—Di Genova has a real resting bitch face and he is infamous for his terse post-match interviews, having little patience for what he regards as stupid questions from interviewers. Di Genova grew up in the docks of his home city, where his father was a lowly-paid laborer and where fights broke out on the streets of the poor suburbs. In many ways that makes him similar to Booker, but there are so many of their sort in the footballing ranks they are a dime a dozen. Every day brings a new rags to riches promise to trap even more of their kind into this utterly exploitative circus for the entertainment of billionaires.

Booker still hurts from where Di Genova headbutted him. L’Equipe had a field day shaming Di Genova, conveniently glossing over the fact that yes, Booker did exaggerate his fall, milking the most out of Di Genova’s light contact to attract the referee’s attention. Of course, what transpired between Di Genova and him is for them to know and for the rest of the world to guess at. To be honest, Booker is surprised at what big of a deal Di Genova made of it. Di Genova was obviously insulting him ("I should give you the Oscar"—and it was said so sneeringly). There’s no way Booker would take this provocation lying down, so he hurled some obscenities back at Di Genova, and then the guy totally exploded on him? 

After the World Cup final, Booker drank so much you will have to forgive him if he can’t recall what he said exactly. Suck my dick? Yeah it was something like that. You hear that every day in football. Some guys are just looking for an excuse to fight. Still, Booker gets a private scolding from his agent, for hurting his player value especially on the back of a lackluster season in the Premier League. He was injured in November and when he came back in December he was often substituted early, with pundits weighing in on stamina issues. In the January transfer window, Copley brought in Barcelona midfielder Rico Gonzalez, who is four years younger than Booker and plays in the same spot. It seemed like Booker was falling out of favor with the manager he had the most success with. By the end of the season, Booker found himself languishing on the bench, and his agent started putting out feelers for transfer deals.

Summer break arrives for real, and Booker chooses to vacation in the Turks and Caicos. He spends a day learning to scuba dive, and then returns to find literally hundreds of missed calls from his agent. He dials his agent, who picks up nearly instantly and says that there is a very good deal on the line, and Liverpool are willing to sanction the transfer. The only catch is—it’s Inter Milan that’s making the offer. 

“Why does the bitch want me?”

“Please, Booker it is 2026, we do not use such language about women.”

“She called herself the bitch! In that Champions League interview, she said, ‘if anyone has a problem I am the Bitch-In-Charge and I make the decisions’ she mouths off like she is the new Mourinho.”

“Booker we do not waste time on this. Juve are full, Bayern doesn’t need you, Inter lost Barella to Real—Andy wants you. Inter just raised funds from private investors and let me tell you they have the cash to splash.”

“Give me the number.”

At the end of the day, everything can be bought for a price. Careers are short-lived in football and money received now goes a long way into the future. His agent drops the figure, a ballpark estimate. Booker agrees, letting out a pleased whistle, and hangs up to let his agent do the work of cutting the best deal out of that slice of pie. Before him, the waters of the Caribbean shimmer in a vibrant aquamarine blue, stretching into the boundless horizon. With a smile to himself, Booker decides to pop some champagne and kick back on a deck chair. As he lays there in the sun, he fantasizes about the look on Di Genova’s face on the first day of training. 

Surprise, motherfucker, the new bitch is in town, and this bitch is going to make twice as much money as you do.


	4. surefire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to Nile's popularity from the World Cup coverage, Nile is given an exciting new job opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: this fic makes multiple references to COVID19 and the coronavirus crisis

LOWE  
Another day in the madness of the transfer season, and this time it is €45 million for Sebastien LeLivre to Inter Milan. It’s a club record for a midfielder, and the club’s new owner Steven Merrick is eager to prove he can play with the big boys.

FREEMAN  
Yes, the club faltered in January, Merrick fired incumbent manager Veratti and replaced him with Andromache “Andy” Skifska of Shakhtar Donetsk.

LOWE  
Yes, Skifska is the first female manager in top flight football. And she’s very new, too. She has been managing Shakhtar Donetsk for only four years, but in this short time she has led Shakhtar to a surprise Champions League trophy, beating Real Madrid, Tottenham, and Juventus along the way. Now she has been tasked by Merrick to usher in a new age at Inter Milan, with the hopes of taking the scudetto from longtime rivals Juventus and AC Milan. 

FREEMAN  
Indeed, what a character Skifska has been so far. There is no doubt the boys give her due respect, and with the introduction of LeLivre to the team it would appear she wants to move the team beyond its defensive strengths into a more high tempo game.

LOWE  
Yes, Inter have not been the most exciting team to watch in recent years, have they?

FREEMAN  
I must agree, and—this is an important disclaimer—I completely respect their solid defensive core, but they just struggled to find the finishing touch in previous seasons. I look forward to seeing what surprises the new Inter will bring.

LOWE  
And now, we turn to the news of Messi’s retirement. It truly is the end of an era, isn’t it? Cristiano Ronaldo retired in 2024, and now it is Messi’s turn to bow out. Messi ends his career after two seasons with the San Jose Earthquakes, and you get the sense he really wanted this one last World Cup push in the summer.

FREEMAN  
He has left an indelible mark in footballing history and he will certainly be missed. Here is a recap of some of Messi’s best moments.

[cut]

The cameras cut away, and Nile takes a sip of water. Since the World Cup, she has a recurring spot as a host on the daily news roundup, which she is grateful for.

When filming is done, Nile is told that the executives want to speak to her—they have finally acquired the rights to air the Champions League in the USA, taking it away from long time rivals. They need to build a credible team for their coverage, and an offer is made—Nile has proven popular with American audiences, and they want Nile to relocate to Milan, where the new studio will be set up, and she will join the Champions League coverage team. It will mean constantly traveling around Europe—but hey, Nile has plenty of experience with that, having been with Barcelona for the six years before her retirement. She agrees, and calls her mom with the news. Her mom adds her little brother into the call, and they take turns yelling at each other. 

After four years of fluctuating travel restrictions from 2020 to 2024, vaccination finally became widespread enough in 2025 for restrictions to fall away permanently. For most people, 2026 is the first year they can dream of unrestricted overseas vacations once more. Nile is overcome with excitement at the idea of taking her family around on vacation, where she was once so lonely in Europe for work. Just imagine, Christmas with the family! Taking them to the Christmas markets for the thickest hot chocolate and indulgent confectionery!


	5. every little thing is gonna be alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker settles in at his new team.

Booker skips the preseason tours with Liverpool. The negotiations take a while, and he misses out on the preseason training camp with Inter as well. Finally, he is called to Appiano Gentile for a medical, and the contract is signed. Publicity photos and interviews are taken at the Angelo Moratti Sports Center, Inter’s training ground. Booker’s agent tells him that staff are briefed never to mention the World Cup incident with Di Genova under any circumstance, and Booker has an easy time of it. He is introduced to the team, and everyone shakes hands. Even Di Genova shakes hands with him, and the photographers make a big deal out of it for the website. Anything for PR, Booker thinks, smiling at the camera while Di Genova keeps his usual stony face.

Booker is taken out to dinner and made to go through the usual initiation rite of singing a song. Oasis is too cliched and he got booed at Liverpool for that, so Booker springs for Bob Marley, Three Little Birds.

The Milanese clubs have their training grounds outside the city, and this means most of the players live around Lake Como. He is shuttled from house to house by the real estate agent, and each house is more stupendous than the last. You have got to be pulling my leg, is what Booker thinks when the car pulls into a village right by the lakeshore. A good deal of these houses have absolutely smashing lakeside views, and there’s even one that used to be George Clooney’s house.

Money is silly to Booker at this point, with his signing bonus of €10 million. He buys a turnkey house departed by AC Milan’s Kalulu, Booker’s national squad teammate. Before Kalulu departs, he invites Booker to move in early, and they joke about what Kalulu should leave behind and what he should take with him to Munich. Booker definitely wants Kalulu’s sneaker collection, shoe size be damned. When Kalulu moves out, taking his extensive collection of limited edition sneakers with him, Booker doesn’t even bother replacing the wifi password, although Kalulu has the cheek to kick Booker out of the Netflix account. _Get your own, asshole,_ Kalulu jokingly texts him, _you’re fucking up my recommendations._ Booker has to phone his sister for his own Netflix password, which he doled out to his family long ago. It’s a lonely life as a footballer, and Booker calls his mom, begging her to move in with him, but his mom is helping his sister with her new baby. Booker says they can all move in, but his brother-in-law wants to keep his restaurant going. Booker has six bedrooms in this house and he’s not even using any of them. Instead, he prefers to sleep on the couch in the games room, leaving the television on to generate some background noise.

Surprisingly, Di Genova never once brings up the World Cup incident, and he doesn’t say anything nasty to Booker either, preferring to let his actions do the talking. In training, Di Genova is tough on Booker, really tough, and he gets yelled at often, but it is always for genuine mistakes and Booker just takes it as a baptism of fire.

Of all his new teammates, Booker gets along best with Yusuf Al Kaysani, who never fails to crack a joke when he senses that things might be getting too tense. Yusuf is a fellow FIFA enthusiast, being the best player in the pre-Booker team, and Booker throws down the gauntlet, insisting that he can beat Yusuf any day. They end up spending their post-training afternoons on the PlayStation, and soon they fall into a routine of visiting each other’s houses. Booker discovers that Yusuf also lives alone, in a fairly restrained four bedroom house where the nicest feature is just the heated pool, no spa room, no separate theater room. The living room is where the Playstation games happen, and Yusuf has a projector alongside the usual TV screen. When they get tired of FIFA, they move to Yusuf’s ping pong table, which sits outdoors in his garden, and Booker is influenced to buy one to put in his own games room, for wet weather days.

The new season kicks off, and their first game is an away game at Sampdoria. They manage to bag an away win, though not without struggle. Booker helps orchestrate the opening goal, but Sampdoria come back strong with an equalizer after halftime. Andy takes Booker off towards the end of the game, introducing a speedy forward, and this forward helps to earn a corner that becomes the winning goal.

As often happens at away games, Booker discovered he has once again forgotten his toiletries bag, and he has to ask around for spare soap and shampoo. It is Yusuf who comes first to the rescue, telling Booker that if anyone forgets their toiletries, just ask the Capitano, who has an endless supply of pinched hotel toiletries and never forgets his washbag, a battered old Louis Vuitton pouch in the gray Damier pattern. Without asking, Yusuf grabs a couple of bottles from Di Genova’s washbag and tosses it to Booker. _Le Labo—courtesy of the Park Hyatt. Nice._


	6. la rinascente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile gets settled in at her new job.

Nile is given a clothing budget and a private styling session at La Rinascente opposite the Duomo. La Rinascente is THE department store in Milan, boasting over ten floors of high-end shopping to cater to your every need. Nile is led to the private lounge for her styling session, and is served prosecco on the house while she waits for her stylist. There are mirrors everywhere, and a maze of concealed dressing rooms. The lounge has some bored-looking shoppers taking a break and recharging their phones at the charging stations. Nile finds an emptyish spot to sit down in, and takes a sip of her prosecco while checking out her reflection. Because she is shopping at a high end store today, she is dressed to the nines—if she doesn’t look her best, she just gets sales assistants breathing down her neck as if she’s going to commit daylight robbery.

A blond Russian woman with thick fake eyelashes and a bulky, tricked-out stroller wheels into the aisle, disrupting the silence with her extremely audible voice call. There are two sleeping children in the stroller, one sucking at his thumb, the other curled up in a bassinet. The woman takes a look at Nile, and then does a double take. Nile shifts uncomfortably in her seat, wondering if she should move, but decides that she will budge for no white woman. The Russian woman tries to steal another glance at Nile, and Nile wonders if she should say anything.

Nile settles for the gentlest smile she can manage in this situation.

“Nile? Nile Freeman?” The Russian woman says, and Nile is simultaneously relieved that the woman is staring at her because she recognizes Nile, and yet Nile is suspicious as to why this glamorous, modelesque woman would recognize her.

“Sorry, Miss Freeman, excuse me please if I am scaring you. I am a big fan. Olga Ulatova. I am wife of Timofei Ulatov, if you know?”

 _Timofei Ulatov, Inter Milan goalkeeper since 2022._ “Of course I know!” Nile exclaims. “I’m...sorry, Olga...I’m just so surprised to be recognized! No one does that to me! Not in Europe anyways.”

“Oh I like watching women’s football, you know? I tell my husband, they are tougher than you boys. No nonsense playacting.”

Nile has to suppress a chuckle. A year ago if you told her a WAG would say something nice about her in the center of Milan she would never have believed it.

“Anyway, I see you are shopping in Milan. Are you here on a visit?”

“Oh it’s nice that you asked, Olga. I moved here for work, actually!”

“You are playing for a Milanese club?” Okay, so maybe Nile got her hopes up too much, believing that Olga would know the latest news in women’s football.

“No no, I retired in June. I’m a presenter for NBC now. I will be doing their Champions League coverage. It’s why I’m here, actually, to get a professional wardrobe for work.”

“Ohh!” Olga exclaims. “Now it is making more sense to me. I thought. If you are playing for club, why are you shopping during training time?”

“Yes, exactly,” Nile offers, laughing along. “What about you? What brings you here?”

“Oh, Nile, my life is so boring in Milan. My best friend moved away in January to Stuttgart. All day I look at the kids in the house and it is driving me crazy. The only thing I can do is shop, facials, beauty treatments. You know, since you are new here, if you need anything, why don’t you give me a call? Here, what is your number? I will give you mine.”

If you told Nile a year ago that she would be giving out her phone number to an ultra-hot Russian supermodel she might have laughed you out of the room, but here we are.

“You are very kind, Olga. I appreciate the offer.”

Nile’s stylist arrives, and since Olga has nothing to do she offers to help appraise the outfits the stylist has selected for Nile. Olga has a surprisingly good eye for what Nile prefers in terms of style (simple, clean, unfussy), despite her being clad a little too stereotypically in leopard print and loud colors, which goes a long way in putting Nile at ease in this new world.

With the work wardrobe settled, and having spent her nights doing research, while finding gentle excuses to avoid Olga’s pleas for “tea with the ladies”, Nile is armed and ready for matchday.


	7. il capitano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker is made to apologize formally to the captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> -this fic makes multiple references to COVID19 and the coronavirus crisis  
> -this chapter mentions homophobia in sports

Andy chews Booker out after the Sampdoria game, for not covering enough for the defence when they move up in set pieces. They have Monday off, but on Tuesday when they are back in training, Andy asks to speak to Di Genova and him in private, and she confronts them about any unresolved World Cup tension.

“Do I need to put the two of you in a big get along shirt? What were both of you upset about? Let's thrash out your feelings.”

“Boss, it’s fine,” Di Genova begins. “It’s in the past for me. I was offended by what Booker said but he just needs to make it up on the field.”

From the way the captain is grinding his teeth after speaking, he just seems like a barefaced liar to Booker. And hey, what’s with the “needs to make it up on the field”? It takes two hands to clap, okay? If Di Genova wants to play this game Booker can play along—but Booker can read the field, and he’s in the losing situation here. He runs his hand through his hair and tries his best to look contrite.

“You are my captain now, Di Genova, and I apologize for what I said in anger on the pitch in Los Angeles. Please accept my apology, and let’s work together on the field.”

“Fine, I accept this,” Di Genova says, looking straight at the boss but never once making eye contact with Booker.

The boss makes a gesture at them, fingers in a V pointing from her eyes to the both of them. She will be keeping a close eye to ensure they behave.

They are released, and Booker runs off in a hurry, late for FIFA with Yusuf. He has extra steam to let off today, and he begins ranting to Yusuf how Di Genova seems to have no less of a grudge against him, but that he has made absolutely no opening for Booker. It feels like his apology just bounced off the 10-men wall of Di Genova’s skull.

“That’s just our captain,” Yusuf patiently tries to explain.

“Aren’t you good friends with him?”

“Yeah,” Yusuf says, in a way that kind of deemphasizes the friendship.

“So do you know what he thinks about me at all?”

“He thinks you have potential,” Yusuf says, which just sounds like he’s putting words into his friend’s mouth to keep everyone happy.

With Booker’s mind distracted, Yusuf seizes the opportunity to thrash Booker’s team, winning 7-0 in such a merciless way Booker flings his controller away in rage.

“Fuck you, bro,” Booker hisses. “I’m going to shit in your bathroom to get back at you.”

Yusuf merely laughs in a good-natured way. “Go ahead, just remember to flush, more than once if you need to. And please feel free to spritz the Armani to freshen the air.”

Booker really does have to take a dump, but it’s a consequence of having drunk too much coffee more than anything dumb like getting back at his friend. Sitting on the toilet, he replies to a bunch of messages on WhatsApp, and likes a bunch of Instagram posts. Looking around, Yusuf has some bottles of aftershave arranged neatly on the countertop, Armani Eau Pour Homme, and Booker recalls that his friend appeared in the ad campaign for this exact product, barefooted but in a sharply tailored suit worn in a relaxed manner, smoldering at the camera. Yusuf probably has a lifetime supply of this stuff, which explains why he so liberally permits its use as air freshener. Ah, the life of a footballer.

When Booker is done, he washes his hands, and for the record, Booker washes his hands thoroughly, for 30 seconds as recommended under WHO guidelines. He’s way too scarred by the events of 2020 to do otherwise, and Booker makes it a mission to call out teammates when they don’t practice proper hygiene. Booker is looking for something to dry his hands with when he spots, on the bottom counter of the sink, a beaten up LV toiletries bag, and his heart starts to pound.

 _That’s the captain’s washbag?_ Booker thinks, but also realizes it’s such a stupid thought. What, does he think the captain is hiding behind the shower curtain ready to pounce out and stab him in a surprise attack? Still, Booker’s curiosity gets the better of him, and he inspects the bag warily—it’s old, very scratched, the cording worn off in corners, and it’s definitely the captain’s, but why is this in Yusuf’s house?

Booker unzips the bag and a horde of tiny travel-sized bottles tumble out without warning. Booker struggles to catch them as they fall to the floor, and a few stray bottles come to a landing, thankfully, on the plush bathroom mat, thus dampening any sound. Booker feels a little sheepish, like he’s been divinely punished for his curiosity and hurries to stuff the stupid little bottles back into the pouch. As he does so, he realises that there is a side flap on the inside of the pouch, and tucked inside that side flap is a ream of condoms, in the foil packaging that always reminds Booker of a ravioli chain. On one end of the ream is an empty foil package, torn halfway, and the most ridiculous thought just flashes through Booker’s brain.

_Ew, the captain fucks. But also, why doesn’t he tear off the spent packet? Why leave it hanging there? That’s not his usual methodical style, unless…unless…_

In an instant Booker is transported back to the pitch in Los Angeles.

_Di Genova reaches a hand out to Booker, offering to pick him up. Booker takes up the offer, and as Di Genova pulls him off the ground, Di Genova pulls Booker in real close, and with a voice that is 100% contempt, he sneers, “You deserve the Oscar for Best Actor.”_

What a slimy asshole. Just cos the ref didn’t rule your way doesn’t give you the right to insult me. _Booker has to say something._

It is then Booker recalls he had used a homophobic slur in his retort to Di Genova. That would explain why the captain hates him in a way that can’t be openly discussed, if Booker's hunch is correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Besides being known as il capitano, Nicolò is also a real cheapo, in keeping with the stereotype of the Genoese being stingy. Nicolò di Genova is certain to always take the toiletries from any hotel the team stays at. He can't remember the last time he paid for soap (...ok maybe it was during the 2020 COVID lockdown).


	8. dilemme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there’s anything Booker learns that night, it’s that messing with Di Genova lands you in the sorest spot of regret you’ll ever feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some slang terms: gaffer = boss

In the days that follow, Booker tries his best to conduct high level espionage on the captain and Yusuf. They don’t sit next to each other in the locker room—they used to, when Yusuf first joined, but when Di Genova was promoted to captain Yusuf moved one nook down, opening the spot between them for the team newbie.

Yep, Booker is sandwiched between the captain and the vice captain. _Are they dating? Is that not the most ridiculous concept in the world? But is it not so ridiculous it’s actually plausible?_ The questions repeatedly flash in Booker’s mind like an LED ticker board, as he seeks for little clues of a special relationship between the two centerbacks. If they are dating, they’ve surely managed to keep it very well under wraps. Di Genova is notoriously private, and no one knows anything about his personal life. The only thing you can find about him online that’s remotely personal is that his father died in 2020 of COVID19 complications. There is some information online about Yusuf’s dating life, but it’s of the sort no one really believes—tabloids linking him to random female pop stars just to generate clicks. The thing about hanging out in a group of guys—especially in a work situation, it’s very easy not to know anything about their personal lives at all. The social rules don’t allow for many avenues for heart to heart talk—you do that, one-on-one, and only with your best mate, after five beers, and it must be very late at night. You can know every single detail about your friend’s best XI of the past five decades, or the torque and suspension on their new car...but if you want the real gossip everyone knows you gotta ask the missus.

Unfortunately, Booker is quite single at this point. He actually...did date a pop star a couple of years back, but it was never going to work out anyway with the touring schedules. They did not break up on bad terms, and Booker really likes her latest album, although he suspects at least one of the songs is about him, the one called What Makes You Happy, which kind of sucks, because it’s also really catchy and all the shops are playing it.

It’s not even uncommon for the wives and girlfriends to be away from home when the boys have their game sessions, so Booker genuinely has no idea whether he’s just completely overreacting to accidentally finding Di Genova’s washbag in Yusuf’s bathroom or if he’s really on to something.

At the next away game the tatty LV washbag resurfaces, firmly in Di Genova’s possession. The away game goes well—they’ve kept a clean sheet, and Booker has an active hand in creating chances for this team. He is named Man of the Match, and the gaffer congratulates him for a game well done, which is a great ego boost. The team has the day off the next day, and some of the youngsters are eager to hit the clubs. The manager permits them to do so, as long as they make it to the hotel lobby by 6am for the flight home.

Both the captain and vice-captain are teetotal, although Booker’s been told that the vice-captain brings a lot of energy to the dance floor despite that. The captain never shows up at the club, and Yusuf tends to make an early exit, when the state of drunkenness in the group is such that nothing is comprehensible to a sober person anymore.

Sensing an opportunity, when Yusuf declares his exit, Booker decides to tag along, citing tiredness from the earlier game. Some teammates playfully jeer at him—how can the man of the match leave early—but Booker waves them off and hops into the private-hire car that will take them back to the hotel.

“Hey bro,” Booker says, slapping a hand on Yusuf’s knee. “Wanna play FIFA in my room?”

“Nah,” Yusuf says with a gentle sigh. “I’d love to, but I’m gonna fall asleep at any moment.”

“Not even one round?” Booker presses, trying to put on some puppy eyes.

“Tempting, but no.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no.”

Okay, Booker’s out of ideas. What can he do next? Sit outside his room and try and see if either Yusuf or Di Genova make an effort to visit each other? But will that really mean anything anyway? All the blokes visit each others’ rooms all the time—just to wind each other up, or hang out.

As they get out of the car and into the hotel, it turns out that the gaffer and the captain are having a chat by the bar. Booker gets waved to, which is a nice feeling, but when he and Yusuf head over it turns out they were leaving anyway. And so the four of them share an elevator up to the rooms, wrapped in awkward silence.

“So...uh...anyone interested in FIFA?” Whatever possessed Booker to say this, he does not know. It’s just that the silence is so intolerable.

The gaffer looks at him and laughs. “Ask those guys,” she says. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Di Genova is staring at Booker, and then he looks at Yusuf, and then he stares at Booker again. Booker feels himself nearly withering in the laserlike gaze of those clear blue eyes.

“You have Call of Duty?” the captain asks.

“Yeah, I’m not very good though...” Booker tries to pre-empt, regretting the decision to speak up in the elevator.

“I’ll play,” Di Genova says with a shrug.

Here’s how it unfolds. One, by “play”, Di Genova means he’ll wipe your ass on the floor. Two, Yusuf said he will join them just to watch but Yusuf has fallen asleep on Booker’s bed—he’s literally curled up right there, snoring away—so he wasn’t kidding about being sleepy in the car. Three, because they’re in Booker’s room, Booker can’t escape, and he is simply beaten to a pulp, over and over again, by Nicolò di Genova who is an excellent sharp shooter and terrifyingly unhinged in violent video games. If there’s anything Booker learns that night, it’s that messing with Di Genova lands you in the sorest spot of regret you’ll ever feel.

Finally, Di Genova decides to call it a day, and practically rushes to the door, as if in a hurry to get back to his own room now that there is no playstation to mediate his interaction with Booker.

“Hey hey hey,” Booker calls, before the captain vanishes. “What do we do about this guy?” Yusuf is sleeping as tight as a baby, and Booker uses a foot to nudge Yusuf in the arse to no avail.

“He’s yours,” Di Genova says, with a wry grin that only strikes fear into Booker’s heart. “Do with him what you want.”

Out of the kindness of his heart, Booker decides to tuck Yusuf in, under the duvet, but Yusuf turns out to be a blanket thief and Booker is left to cover himself with the bath sheets. Booker spends the rest of the night unable to sleep, tossing and turning in the small slice of the bed he has left after building a whole fortress around Yusuf with assorted pillows. Is the captain on to him? Does the captain somehow know that Booker suspects something is up? Or does the captain just hate him so much he relishes in any opportunity to beat the hell out of Booker? Or was the captain acting out of jealousy, lashing out at Booker for the times he’s stolen Yusuf away with all that FIFA.

All Booker knows is that when morning comes he is woken by a screaming Yusuf, who is thwacking him vigorously with a pillow.

“Why are you here? Why are you in bed with me?” Yusuf sounds genuinely distressed.

“Uh, excuse me, but this is MY room, bruh. And you just fell asleep and took all the blanket like it’s yours.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah I’d say that’s a bit of an overreaction, bro,” Booker says, and then the devil takes over. “It’s not like we slept together,” he adds jokingly, just to test the waters.

Yusuf freezes in reaction, and stares at Booker for a really long time. Finally, he throws up his hands in defeat and says, “Sorry bro, I’m just gonna go.”

Something is definitely up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Makes You Happy is the hit single from [redacted name]. It is the breakup song of summer 2026, with an empowering message for newly-single people set to an upbeat, and very catchy tune. The first verse is about deepening misunderstandings between the protagonist and her ex, as they find they no longer make each other happy like they used to. The second verse is about breaking free from this ex, and finding happiness in life again. The third verse reaffirms finding happiness for yourself, whether you are single or partnered.


	9. l'opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile attends a black tie award ceremony in Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The FIFA awards are presented in September, for the preceding season (the European football season typically runs from August to May).

The Best FIFA Football Awards are to be presented at the Palais Garnier in Paris, and Nile is on the list of nominees. The dress code is black tie, and for the event, Nile has chosen an Atelier Versace column gown with an asymmetrical neckline and a statement bow over one shoulder.

The Palais Garnier is perhaps one of the most breathtaking structures Nile has seen in her life, and the interiors are as ornate and as gilded as a person can imagine. It’s all glitz and glam, and the crème de la crème of the footballing world have all been invited. Many of the players clean up really well in formal wear, and it’s hard to not be a little starstruck by the legends of generations past.

At the grand staircase, there are two bronze sculptures of women holding up the lamps, and Nile is intrigued enough by their beauty that she looks up the sculptor, who is called Albert-Ernest Carrier-Belluse and for whom Auguste Rodin worked as an assistant for over six years. Nile has been taking up part-time studies in art history, and it makes Nile smile to think that she can recognize the influence in the piece.

“Ah, as always, it is women who light the way.”

Nile looks away from the sculpture to see that it is France national and Inter Milan midfielder Sebastien LeLivre who is speaking to her.

“The sculptor is a man though,” Nile returns, unsure of where this conversation is supposed to go. To be honest LeLivre’s opener sounds like a very clumsy European-style pickup line.

“Rodin?” LeLivre asks, and Nile is surprised to hear that a male footballer is capable of naming a famous sculptor.

“Funny you say that—I looked it up and it’s a guy Rodin worked for, but now everyone can name Rodin and not this guy.”

“Anything like Koeman and Van Gaal?” LeLivre replies, which gets a chuckle out of Nile.

“I sure hope not, that’s nasty,” Nile says, and then because she can’t help herself, she asks, “Anyway, where did you learn about Rodin?”

“You know what the fans called me at Aston Villa?” LeLivre shrugs in such a nonchalant way that Nile finally understands what a Gallic shrug is supposed to be.

“Um, you’ll have to forgive me for not knowing this one.”

“The Overthinker,” LeLivre says, leaning in with a knowing wink.

The answer gets a real laugh out of Nile. It is true that LeLivre has a very cerebral style of playing, but on his bad days he has been known for overcomplicating chances at goal and choking when the goal is wide open.

“There was a cartoon the Guardian did of me, squatting over the penalty spot thinking very hard, I will never get that out of my history.”

“If I were you I’d own it and frame it up on the wall,” Nile supplies.

“Nah, I like having actual art on my walls,” LeLivre replies. “Anyway, can I get you a drink? You can call me Sebastien, Seba, or Booker—I actually prefer Booker, but never my last name.”

“I’m Nile,” Nile says to Booker. “And sorry, I never knew that! What’s the story?”

Booker does another Gallic shrug, as if trying to wave the question away, while a waiter with a drinks tray makes his way over. “My dad was never in my life. I don’t see why I have to go by his name. What’s your poison of choice?”

“Oh—I’m so sorry to hear that. And yes, red wine is fine.”

Nile doesn’t even get to clink glasses with Booker before she is accosted by her former teammates, and Booker waves at them politely but disappears into the crowd.

“Niley Nile Nile,” Morgan (Team USA and Orlando Pride winger) practically squeals, as other teammates pile onto Nile in a big hug. “We missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Nile says.

“How’s Milan? Met any Italian stallions yet? Or great Italian beauties?”

Nile has to laugh it off. “I’m still mostly focused on settling in at work,” she replies. “I got a nice place near Gerusalemme station though! And I got a pullout couch! Come stay with me if you visit.”

“Of course we will stay with you! Morgan might move to PSG next year,” Kaitlynn (Team USA and FC Kansas City attacking midfielder) says with a nudge. “Closer to her French WCW Océane…”

“Haha, bonne chance,” Nile says, bringing out her bad high school level French.

The crowd is ushered into the auditorium for the award presentation ceremony. As predicted, Nile wins the Best FIFA Women’s Player award, the second and last of her career. In her acceptance speech she turns the focus on the people who help her get to where she is, expressing her utmost gratitude, ending on a note that highlights causes Nile is passionate about—antiracism work, antihomophobia work, intersectional feminism, income inequality—that she will take with her to her post-retirement career. Nile gets a standing ovation, which genuinely makes her tear up, grateful for what she has yet rueful that this is her final opportunity on the stage in this position.

After the awards show, Nile gets invited to an afterparty, which she attends with her former teammates. They drink and dance and laugh and trade stories, but they also have careers to return to and flights to catch, so things don’t get too wild.

Back in her hotel room, unwinding from the high of her celebrations, and with time to spare, Nile takes off her makeup and decides to do a sheet mask to help preserve moisture in her skin. While the sheet mask is working its magic Nile scrolls mindlessly through Instagram, and then decides to look up Booker’s account. It’s not too exciting, most of his posts are matchday photos with captions like “2-0 good job lads”, and there aren’t any stories on view. It is then Nile realizes that Booker has already been following her, since the button she presses says “Follow back” instead of just “Follow”. _Interesting,_ Nile thinks, but then she scrolls through Booker’s following list and he follows a whole bunch of random personalities anyway.

It’s time to remove the sheet mask, and Nile has her satin hair wrap on ready for bed—and then she makes the stupid mistake of checking her phone—which brings her to her Insta DMs.

**Messages with** __bookersebastien  
  
**__bookersebastien:** Congrats on the win, it was well deserved 🥳

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to user xslytherclawx for the [Insta DM skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823021)!


	10. derby d'italia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inter Milan play Juventus away in Torino, the first Derby d'Italia of the season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A derby in football usually refers to a match between rival teams from the same city. (e.g. Manchester United vs Manchester City = Manchester derby).
> 
> However, there are named derbies that basically mean "big match", e.g. the Derby d'Italia, which is between Inter and Juventus. Wiki excerpt below:
> 
> The Derby d'Italia is the is the name given to football matches between Internazionale of Milan and Juventus of Turin. The term was coined back in 1967 by Italian sports journalist Gianni Brera. The teams are from the two biggest cities in Northern Italy.

Nile actually replies to Booker’s DM, which only encourages him to send more messages, and oh, is this really how it’s gonna go? Really?

What’s worse is that when Nile scrolls through her own posts she notices that user __bookersebastien has liked most of her posts going back to the 2023 World Cup. It’s a weird feeling to think that a male soccer player, who is paid in a week what Nile made over a whole year, would care about women’s football, and yet Nile has also heard that some of these guys are so football obsessed they’ll watch anything as long as it’s 22 people, 1 ball and a big green pitch.

To distract herself from overanalyzing her messages with Booker, Nile decides to take a more proactive approach to her social life in Milan and agrees to invites from her colleagues. They’re great people, but they’re also a whole generation older than Nile, and out of sheer desperation to hang out with someone her age Nile finally gives into Olga Ulatova, who is overjoyed to have an excuse for a ladies’ lunch.

Olga turns out to be great company, and here’s the sad truth that Nile has to admit—Olga is a great source of player gossip, but of course Nile is operating in a circle of trust and can’t use any of this information in her professional setting. But really, how much would the viewer at home appreciate that Bonucci’s bad form is because his wife caught him cheating? Or that Haaland’s new goal celebration is based on his daughter’s dance moves to his critically panned rap single?

Inter is off for a big away game with Juventus, and Olga invites Nile to stay over for the weekend and watch the game together. Olga gathers a bunch of her own friends, who are a surprising mix of professionals and not as many WAGs as Nile would assume. Some of Olga’s friends are really chic, like the art gallerist Sonya and her editor husband Massimo, and Nile is grateful for the introductions to expand her circle. Sonya invites Nile to come check out her gallery, an offer Nile is all too happy to take up, and it pleases Nile that Sonya is so interested in her art history dissertation on the Harlem Renaissance.

The game with Juventus turns out to be worth the hype. Inter Milan leap to the top of the table with three away goals and a clean sheet, and Olga pops an expensive-looking bottle of champagne to celebrate.

After the match, the guests clear out and Nile moves to help Olga clean up, which gains approval from Olga’s mom, who also lives in the house. The private chef whips up a healthy dinner for everyone, including the children, who swallow their broccoli without any complaints, and Nile compliments Olga on getting her children to accept vegetables without complaint—a rarity in America.

Nile has an invitation to stay over because Olga wants to take her kayaking on Lake Como, and Nile isn’t one to turn down such an attractive offer. The sunset view over dinner is stunning, and Nile gets Olga’s permission to take a few photos from the backyard overlooking the lake, which she keeps to herself just for the memory.

Olga tucks the children into bed and then apologizes to Nile that she will have to call her husband to celebrate this evening, to which Nile heartily encourages her to. Nile retreats to the guestroom she is occupying for the night, and with nothing else to do, watches highlights from the day’s matches.

It really was a great match. Derby d’Italia. Juventus 0, Internazionale 3. Skifska played her team in a 4-1-3-2 formation. In attack the fullbacks would thunder down the touchlines and the defensive midfielder would rotate back to form a back three. Of particular note is the fluidity of the passing triangles between Booker and the attacking players, where Booker is spoiled for choice to create chances at goal.

And then, there it is, the little itch of a feeling that Nile can’t resist scratching. She opens Instagram and drops a little message.

**Messages with** __bookersebastien  
  
**nile.freeman:** Big game! Nicely done 😆  
  
**__bookersebastien:** Ty. Honest feedback please. No bs. 🙏  
**nile.freeman:** Musa and Verbeek were open at 59th minute, de Ligt is not what he once was, could’ve made it 4  
  
**__bookersebastien:** FUCK  
**nile.freeman:** Ortega’s fine too, but Frabotta’s speed is lethal  
**__bookersebastien:** Ur right. Guess I’m not getting any sleep tonight 😒  
**nile.freeman:** Sleep keeps the brain sharp! 🧠 you need it  
**__bookersebastien:** bye then.

There is a pause, where Nile sees that __bookersebastien is typing... and typing... and typing...and then bloop, a message appears:

**Messages with** __bookersebastien  
  
**__bookersebastien:** whatcha up to tmr?

Nile types, then furiously backspaces, then flings her phone to the side.

 _Whatcha up to????? The heck!_ Is this going where Nile thinks it is going? She picks up her phone and stares at the message again. _Oh hell no. No no no. Get out of here._

Nile throws her phone into the drawer of the bedside table and practically slams it shut. _No phone time for you, Nile Freeman. Things are getting out of hand._

The next day, Nile replies belatedly with “oops fell asleep. nothing much”, hoping that will be enough to keep Booker at bay for a while. She has breakfast with Olga, her mother Anna, and the two children. Anna will look after the children while Olga takes Nile kayaking.

The lake is serene, and the waters calm. The weather is good this morning, although the dewy mist will take hours to lift. Olga is happy to give a running commentary on who lives in which house by the shore, and Nile lets her talk on since it’s fun to know, if not too memorable.

Kayaking is a great workout, especially for the arms, and Nile thanks Olga for the opportunity. Olga says that Nile should feel free to contact her anytime she wants to head out to Lake Como, and then Olga insists on driving Nile all the way back to Milan, instead of just dropping her off at the nearest train station.

Back in her own home, Nile gets around to preparing her notes for the midweek Champions League games, and when she needs a break from work, she unthinkingly opens Instagram, which she has been ignoring the whole day.

**Messages with** __bookersebastien  
  
**nile.freeman:** oops fell asleep. nothing much  
  
**__bookersebastien:** Back in Milan. Any dinner plans?

Fuuuuuuck, Nile practically screams at herself. Why does it keep escalating?


	11. speakeasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker and Nile dine...in a closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for mention of athlete sexual assault at the end of the chapter (don't worry, nothing happens to our main characters--but it's a passing mention to the larger reality of rape culture in sports)
> 
> FYI for the ages in this fic, nile is 25 and booker is 26.

Against her better judgment, Nile is checking in her coat at a really fancy, but really obscurely-located restaurant/bar. She is led through winding rooms filled with people, until she gets somewhere near the kitchen, and then the waitress opens what looks like the door to a closet, but turns out to be a tiny private dining room.

Booker stands up to greet her, and appears to be lunging towards Nile, until Nile suddenly remembers that Europeans do the standard kiss on the cheek as a greeting. _Whew._ If she freaked out that would have been capital A awkward.

The restaurant/bar is impossibly chic, vintage 1920s decor in a speakeasy style, and Nile is glad she decided to dress up a little. If you can believe it, she spent almost an hour deciding on what to wear, mostly because she was having an internal crisis on whether this was a date-date, or like, just a friendly meetup, maybe to talk football tactics or something. And then there’s the fact that Nile is still struggling to come to terms with what she feels for Booker—it’s much better left unacknowledged, despite the fact that she admittedly enjoys the fact that someone is lavishing attention on her. It’s just—god, if he were a movie star or even an athlete from a different sport Nile would have dived right in—but it’s a male _footballer._ It’s so loaded. There’s also the fact that Nile is bi, and sometimes when she is asked out on dates by cismen there’s just something deep in her that wants to rock up to the date looking as butch as possible, just to challenge their masculinity or something. In the end, Nile settles for a kind of in-between—she’s wearing a tailored shirt dress so it looks butch-y from the waist up but femme from the waist down, and she leaves it unbelted to de-emphasize her figure. And then, just to up the glam factor she twists a colorful silk scarf around her head like a hair band and adds large hoop earrings. To finish, she wears a pair of leather oxfords, to bring back some butchness. It doesn’t look like she dressed up too much for the occasion, but it’s not like she just rolled out of the house for groceries either.

Booker is in a navy suit with a crisp white shirt, top button undone, and it’s simple but well-fitted and damn this man for being 6’2” and in his physical prime.

“Hey,” Booker greets. “I’m sorry we have to dine in this closet but it is the only way not to be seen.”

“Understandable,” Nile replies hesitantly. “But is this really a closet?”

Booker shrugs. “Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t.”

This place is known for cocktails, so they order some to start. Because this place is operated by Booker’s friend, they can choose to skip the menus and let the chef decide the food for them. It sounds like a fun concept, so Nile agrees.

Nile’s cocktail combines rye, byrrh, cynar, chartreuse, cardamom and orange bitters, while Booker springs for a gin-based cocktail with earl grey, blackberries, lemon and agave.

They clink glasses, and Nile congratulates Booker once more on beating Juventus.

“Let’s not talk about the game,” Booker says. “That’s what my boss makes me do.”

Nile laughs, and apologizes. “How’s it like working with this boss?”

“So far so good. Despite how she looks to the media she’s actually a very caring person. The media is just—psychological warfare, you know? You can’t let the media get to you, so you attack first.”

“That makes a lot of sense actually,” Nile says. As the first female manager in top flight football, Andy Skifska is damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t, so her approach of declaring herself the bitchiest bitch preempts any attempt to insult her with the term.

Anyway, it turns out Booker is capable of carrying a conversation over topics other than football, which really impresses Nile, even though she tries to tell herself that she’s just setting a really low bar because he’s a footballer. Booker likes art, and during the mask-wearing years, on away days, he enjoyed slipping into museums, as incognito as he can manage, all around Europe to look at the artworks on display.

It turns out that his favorite artist is Marc Chagall, thanks to an early school excursion to Nice, where the Musee Marc Chagall stands. What Booker likes about Chagall is his emotive use of color, but not in an abstract way like Rothko. Chagall’s colors tell the story of the characters in the paintings, who live fanciful, poetic lives.

They talk about France, and Booker goes off on a whole rant about his hatred for the romanticized version of France, most commonly in the minds of Americans and their weird tv shows and movies which are really all about an idealized, upper class and very white notion of France. For years Booker just couldn’t go into any French luxury store, despite having the money from making it big in football. He knew that the people in those stores knew he didn’t belong inside of them, that to them he will always be a Marseille street rat.

Nile is surprised by the extent to which she can identify with Booker’s feelings, coming from the South Side of Chicago. There were just some parts of town that you never went into, and people from those parts never came into yours. When Vanity Fair did a photoshoot of the 2023 World Cup winning Team USA, Nile’s eyeballs nearly popped out of her head when she realized the outfits they were putting them in cost thousands of dollars.

On some level, Nile begins to understand the lives of the contemporary male footballer—in so many ways they are coddled to a fault, many with the maturity level of a three year old baby, and yet they are boxed in by the complete scrutiny of their lives anytime they step in public. It explains why so many of them marry their childhood sweethearts and have three kids by the age of 26. Anyone they meet after they make the first team could be hiding ulterior motives. They’re not really allowed social lives either, since they are photographed nearly everywhere they go, so they make children to make friends for themselves in a way. Home is a castle where they are both king and prisoner, and the managers like it that way. Booker is a known rebel, the bane of managers, a troublemaking type that hasn’t settled down into domestic bliss.

On her part Nile is a good deal more guarded about opening up, mostly because the more she hears about it the less she wants the life of a male footballing star or to be associated with it. Nile thinks of the desperation with which Olga tries to ask her out sometimes, and how easy it can be to exploit Olga’s generosity if Nile didn’t have a moral backbone, and these people are surrounded by so many sharks.

By the end of the night, Nile has had the luxury of tasting some very delicious food, but beyond that Nile feels like she has a lot of food for thought. Booker calls a private-hire car to send her home, and checks in with her when she’s reached her destination. In a normal situation, he would have driven her home himself, but if she’s seen with him in public it will definitely be tabloid fodder and that loss of privacy is too high a price to pay, especially for a first date (but was it really a date tho?).

Nile calls her mom to talk about her feelings, only for her mom to launch into a whole tirade about safety issues.

_You didn’t tell anyone you went on a date before you went on a date? You let this man stick you in a cramped room for hours, with no one to keep an eye on you, not even the waitstaff? What happened to ‘first date in a public area’? You didn’t even get to choose your food, much less see what went into your food and you ate all of it? This man is rich enough to bribe a waiter to put substances in your drinks before they serve it to you—that’s why you need other people around you, just in case. And then he ordered the Uber home for you? Now he knows your address and can show up anytime he wants—you know how many star male athletes have rape accusations..._

Nile’s mom had a point, but she also had too many points. Nile messed up, in several ways. Maybe she shouldn’t have told her mom so much, but it was also wrong for her to make her mom worry like that. To assuage her mom, Nile tells her that she will let her trusted friends in Milan know when she goes on a date, and when she apologizes to her mom her mom apologizes to her too, which breaks Nile’s heart.

“Sorry, baby. I was just so worried about you. You’ve been away from home so long, in these countries where they don’t always speak English, and where you might be the only person of color for miles.”

The truth is, in Milan, Nile maybe only has one person she could trust to let her know she is on a date—it’s Olga, but also, Nile just went on a date with her husband’s teammate. Had it been anyone outside of football it might be no big deal to tell Olga, but it all seems kind of complicated when the footballing world operates on bizarre rules that don’t apply anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the quartiers nord to the south side...it's booker and nile! 
> 
> (that connection is why this pairing grew SO MUCH on me + FYI those are the "rough" parts of town, for Marseille and Chicago respectively. the discussion of inequality, racism and poverty in connection to these geographical districts is much larger than this fic, alas.)


	12. just asking for a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker and Yusuf hang out after training.

It’s Tuesday and they have a Champions League game the next day, hosting Shakhtar at the San Siro. They are going against the boss’s former team, so it is crucial they win this one. The training day starts off with a briefing about Shakhtar, a tactical discussion, and then rehearsal of formations and set pieces.

After training, Booker is once again at Yusuf’s place, and they decide to play FIFA as Shakhtar vs Shakhtar, to understand their opponents. He had dinner with Nile on Sunday, and on Monday he texted her to ask how she was doing, but she hasn’t replied since. It’s been lowkey bothering Booker, and he’s been replaying the dinner over and over in his mind—did he say something wrong? But Nile seemed to have enjoyed herself—Booker recalls she had a pretty good laugh when she found out Booker was recycling his 2022 France national team official photocall suit for the dinner. Booker joked that he was wearing it because it needs to see more action, and Nile returned with a crack at the French team for always crashing out at the group stage after making it to the finals in a previous World Cup.

Booker scores a goal against Yusuf, with Shakhtar forward Shevchenko. Yusuf swears at him, and Booker swears back at Yusuf, safe in the security of their friendship to trade insults as a sign of affection. The two of them went from 0 to 60 real quick, and they spend an ungodly amount of time around each other, which is fine if they’re both single men...and yet…Booker would really prefer not to be single and Yusuf is questionably single. Maybe Booker should try prodding around to see if Yusuf opens up.

“Hey Yusuf, how do you know if a girl likes you back?” Booker asks, as offhandedly as he can, keeping his eyes glued to the TV screen as he tries to engineer an attack through midfielder Fernando.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just asking for a friend, you know,” Booker replies, and then decides to give Yusuf a wink.

“Ahh,” Yusuf draws out, and then seizes the opportunity to score one against Booker. “Is there a special lady in your life?”

“Who, me? We’re talking about my friend, remember?”

“Get your friend here and I’ll give him the advice he needs.”

“Alright alright, my give up,” Booker says. “Impart your wisdom to me, bro.”

“First of all, you’re asking the question all wrong. How do you know if ‘a girl’ likes you back, saying that as if all girls are the same? You gotta give me the specifics bro. What kind of girl is she? What makes you think they’re into you at all? I mean, no offense but I always think it’s good to assume they’re not into you at all and are just being friendly. 80% of the time—I swear it’s true—80% of the time that’s the case.”

“Wow thanks for the support bro. That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” Booker replies sarcastically.

“Dude it’s true, okay? Just because we’re footballers doesn’t mean we can always get our way. That’s just disgusting.”

“Okay, but from your personal experience, how do you tell when they like you back?” Booker presses on.

“If someone really likes you it’s always clear. There might be doubt from other factors, like whether it’s a good idea for you to be together, which might confuse the signals. But—hey, you know me—I’m a straightforward kind of guy. If it’s not clear I simply think you just have to ask, but with that, be prepared for an answer you don’t want to hear. Just let your feelings go gently, come back to me and cry if you need to—but yeah. If someone likes you, you will know.” With one early goal in the bag, Yusuf is simply trying to bide his time—playing the possession game here—passing the ball back and forth between his players without transitioning into attacks.

Booker makes a successful tackle and gets the ball. “Wow, true wisdom indeed,” he says. “There’s no way you can be single—come on bro. Who are you seeing? Out with it.” Aha, the opening. A chance at goal. Booker makes his shot.

“Wait—I wasn’t done. I wanted to add—don’t force a question too early either. If you’re not sure, just give it time to develop. The answer always emerges at the right time.” Blocked—Yusuf is well placed to clear the ball.

“Dude I asked you a question.” Booker lashes out the most pathetic of rebounds, the kind that ends with a goal kick.

Yusuf falls silent for a while. _Wait a second, what’s going on here?_ The goalkeeper fumbles the ball—leaving the goal wide open while the opposing striker charges forward and scores. A breakthrough for Team Booker with just minutes left! “What have you heard about it?” Yusuf finally says.

“Heard about what?” Booker feigns ignorance. Team Booker is overjoyed with the equalizer. All members have piled onto the goalscorer in the celebration. With this away goal, they can proceed to the next stage of the Champions League… “I mean, there really is someone I like—I’m not kidding about that, and you’re giving me advice like a pro. I’m just wondering where you got it from.”

 _Game over._ Yusuf throws down his controller and strides determinedly across the room to open his fridge, staring at its contents with the most intense concentration Booker has ever seen anyone direct at a fridge.

Finally, after an eternity of rustling around his kitchen, Yusuf settles for an apple from his pantry counter. “Yeah, I have someone,” Yusuf replies evasively, crunching noisily into the apple as if to divert attention.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Booker teases, motioning for Yusuf to throw him an apple, which Yusuf does. With the apple caught in hand, Booker feels safe enough to lay on the pressure, “or...lucky they or guy? We live in 2026 after all.”

Yusuf squints at Booker, which is justified because Booker is pretty sure he isn’t being grammatically correct about the various genders.

“You _know_ something,” Yusuf exclaims accusingly, all of a sudden. “Out with it—or I’m kicking you out of here...forever. I mean it, like forever, for real forever. No more games between us.”

“Okaaaay,” Booker draws out. “I’ll say it—but promise me you won’t lay a single finger on me.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.Thecaptain.” Booker spits out in one quick breath.

“What?” Yusuf really needs to stop acting like he can’t hear Booker.

“Dude what?” Booker hurls back, pissed off with Yusuf’s selective hearing.

“What what?” Yusuf returns. _Hello there, is Yusuf’s brain working?_

“Dude you asked me to say whomst I thought you were seeing.” Booker explains.

“Whomst?” Yusuf asks incredulously.

“Is that not the right word?” Booker questions earnestly.

“What the fuck, Booker?”

“What the fuck, Yusuf? You know how many times I have had to repeat myself this afternoon?”

“Have you? Been. Repeating yourself?” Yusuf echoes in a hollow voice. Oh god, Booker broke his friend’s brain.

Booker yells in agony like a frustrated marmot. “Is il capitano your ragazzo? Your fidanzato?” he yells, hoping to drill the point home.

Yusuf is staring at Booker with a fiery gaze that suggests a physical altercation is coming up.

“Ah ah ah,” Booker yells, jumping off the couch in case he needs to run, wagging a finger at Yusuf. “You agreed—no contact. You can’t touch me.”

“I’m not going to. How the fuck could you tell Booker? Just how the fuck did you know?”

“Trade secret,” Booker supplies, before deciding that he should arm himself with a cushion just in case.

“No you have to tell me, Booker. I’m dead serious. No one else knows. We’ve told no one. Nada. Zilch. We’ve done everything—literally everything—we can to hide it. If it leaks—you have to help me, bro.”

Booker knows. This is career-ending serious, so he tells his friend the truth. “Hey uh don’t kill me but I saw his stuff in your bathroom. The toiletries bag. Just the one time though.”

“How do you go from that to ‘we’re dating?’” Yusuf retorts almost instantaneously. “Okay Booker you know what, your girl is definitely _not_ into you. You’re overthinking the signals.”

“Am I? I’m getting strong reactions from you, bro.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m not sure that’s why I asked you bro. You said so yourself—just ask if it is not clear.”

“Could you really tell just from that?”

“So you _are_ seeing each other?”

“Fuuuuuuck,” Yusuf draws out in surrender. “Isn’t it the worst thing you’ve ever heard? I mean, that’s why we try so hard to hide it.”

“I’m guessing it must tear you up inside,” Booker says sympathetically, carding a hand through his hair.

“It does,” Yusuf says, flopping onto his couch in defeat, arms folded across his chest defensively.

“But it’s worth it yeah? Or you wouldn’t keep it going.” Booker tries to offer some encouragement.

“Yeah. It’s worth it. So far.”

“You have my support bro. I’m not gonna say a word to anyone. But if it ever gets out, I’m on your side no matter where in the future this is—you could be a Manc and I’ll still be on your side on this.”

“Thanks. That means a lot. But really, how did you know? Are you a psychic or what?” Yusuf continues to sulk on his couch.

Booker sits back down on the couch and leans his head on Yusuf’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around Yusuf in a lazy hug. “You know the World Cup incident? The one where your boyfriend hit me? Yeah, I said something I really shouldn’t have. I mean, I thought it was just a casual insult but he took it so seriously…I thought it must have bothered him because there was truth in it.”

“Oh. Right. That time. Yeah I know exactly what you said. Who do you think he called right after he got sent off?” Yusuf unceremoniously shoves Booker away in a rejection of the hug.

“His mom?” Booker waggles his eyebrows with a hopeful grin at Yusuf.

Yusuf pauses for a moment, then closes his eyes and shakes his head, biting his lower lip out of sheer disbelief. In a flash of a moment, Yusuf grabs a pillow and lands it on Booker before bursting into laughter. “Sebastien Booker you’re a real piece of shit you know that? I can’t believe we’re friends.”

“Hey, I didn’t know what I know now. If I did I would have used some other word. I swear. That was uncool. Very uncool of me.”

“More than just uncool,” Yusuf sighs, punching Booker in the arm. “It’s just not fair the way the world works, you know? He could have reported you for disciplinary action, but he didn’t only because complaining about it would invite debate and speculation and that is so much worse—you know how much he hates drawing attention to himself.”

“I know—I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you, and I know I still have yet to apologise to him in a proper context.”

“I’ll let him know. I mean, he’s definitely going to know that you know about us.”

“Yeah I expected that. In fact, I’m kind of surprised he isn’t hiding in the bedroom or something, snooping on us.”

“Why would he do that?” Yusuf asks, sounding thrown off and genuinely bewildered. “He’s usually at golf when we have our games. He has his own hobbies, you know.”

“I’m surprised. I have never been able to shake off the serial killer vibes from that man I tell you,” Booker says with a shudder.

“Yeah—you know why, right?” Yusuf shoots back instantly. “You deserve it man.”

Booker gives Yusuf a pleading apologetic puppy face. And then, apropos of whatever goes on in his head: “I know that I let you down,” Booker begins, singing the lines to a famous song from his childhood. “But is it too late to say sorry now?”

“Oooh-oooh-ooooh-oooh-ooh...,” Yusuf chimes in with a high-pitched voice. “Damn I remember when this song was everywhere. It must be like ten years old now?”

“Yeah mate yer getting old,” Booker teases.

“Hey fuck you,” Yusuf says with a gentle laugh. “Anyway, moving on, tell me more about this girl you’re into.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manc = Manchester United player/supporter. Booker played for Liverpool for 4 years so he's conditioned to hate Mancs (longstanding rivalry).
> 
> In this fic, Booker is 26 and Yusuf is 29, which means they were born in 2000 and 1997 respectively sakjdaadjjd the Biebz is from their childhood.
> 
> IMO this is one of the best chapters in the fic!!!! hahahaah I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it--Booker and Joe are SUCH dudes.


	13. inter vs shakhtar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matchday interlude!

After the first round of home and away matches in the group, Inter now face Shakhtar Donetsk at home. Inter are second in the group, equal on points with Bayern Munich but lagging on goal difference.

Shakhtar Donetsk are Andy’s former team, and while Andy knows them like the back of her hand, the trouble is they know her too, and they will be hungry to earn any points they can off their former manager. Spite, after all, is one of the most potent human motivators.

For this game, Andy plays Yusuf and Booker on the left, where they are meant to torment Shakhtar’s beleaguered right side. It works like a dream, just like in practice, and Booker gets two assists and his first goal for Inter in the Champions League.

_So—this girl that you like—she knows a lot about football, yeah?_  
_Yeah._  
_Well then, the answer is simple. Let your feet do the talking._

Just like that. Just like the boss planned, just like Yusuf said. Yusuf and Booker have a silly little nostalgic Fortnite dance they do in training and they do it here, on the pitch, for Booker’s goal celebration.

The match ends with Inter Milan 4, Shakhtar Donetsk 0.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortnite dances are "nostalgic" to Booker and Yusuf LOL. They live in 2026 you live in 2018.


	14. double texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile kind of left Booker on read for more than a whole day.

HOWARD  
Four-nil. Manager Andy Skifska shows no mercy to her former team as Inter Milan come into form, razing Shakhtar Donetsk to the ground.

TYLER  
That’s quite a performance isn’t it?

BIRTLES  
Yes, the Inter Milan of years past has evolved—more attacking, more passing.

HOWARD  
Playing Al Kaysani on the left was so inspired, wasn’t it? I mean, he’s always had the physique for a defender, but it makes you forget how talented he is on the ball as well. And he’s two-footed as well—what an incredible passing range.

FREEMAN  
Yes, that run and pass out wide to LeLivre on the counterattack, that’s the move of the match for me.

TYLER  
Let’s watch it again. It’s so beautiful. To me it’s like, who’s the striker here and who’s the defender again?

FREEMAN  
I know—look how he just steps in and takes the ball off Shevchenko—and that little Cruyff turn and run, wow. Just wow.

BIRTLES  
Sublime. And then it goes to LeLivre, Musa, LeLivre, and LeLivre scores with an easy chip past the goalkeeper.

HOWARD  
Wow. If Inter Milan keep this up, they will be a force to reckon with. Domestically, they’re already sitting on top of Juventus. I’m certainly looking forward to what more surprises they will bring this season.

TYLER  
Indeed. A very strong performance from a manager keen to prove she has the Midas touch. And up next, we have Chelsea, in a shock defeat at the Stamford Bridge to Benfica, who barely made it out of the qualifying round.

[cut]

The cameras cut away to the match recap, and Nile tries to get her heart rate back to normal. No one prepared her for the range of emotions you run through after seeing someone you went on a date with in their complete element, kicking ass. Obviously, it really ups the attractive factor, but it feels even more like an obvious trap to fall so easily.

Not to mention that Nile kind of left Booker on read for more than a whole day. When work is over, she bids goodbye to her colleagues, and gets home on the train. During her commute, Nile looks through her phone and agonizes over what to say. If Booker wanted Nile to reply he played his cards right. But Nile is known for being stubborn, if nothing else, and she doesn’t want to fold so easily to Booker’s hand.

Glancing at her phone, Nile suddenly notices that Booker is online, and typing, and it nearly gives her a heart attack. This guy is double texting her, really?

**Messages with** __bookersebastien  
  
**__bookersebastien:** I heard you were full of praise for Al Kaysani…  
**nile.freeman:** He was amazing. Verratti transformed him into the superb center back that everyone knows, but when he was at Barça this was what they wanted him to do, wasn’t it? And now your manager is giving him a new chance at this dream.  
  
**__bookersebastien:** He is fast for his size, I’ll give him that.  
**nile.freeman:** Sounds like someone’s jealous 😒  


_Whoa whoa whoa Nile Freeman,_ Nile thinks to herself. Where the hell did that line come from? Why did it escape her fingertips? Why did she press enter for that?

**Messages with** __bookersebastien   
  
**__bookersebastien:** Just kidding I love that man to death. I’d go to war for him.  
**nile.freeman:** Okk  


Ugh! Nile wants to throw her phone away. Chatting to Booker seems to bring out a whole new level of involuntary flirtatiousness. Just admit you’re attracted and go, one half of Nile’s brain says. And the other half goes, but what will your former teammates say about this? Sellout! Sellout!

Nile just wants to live her post-retirement life in peace. She counts herself one of the lucky ones from the women’s game, with enough income from her playing years such that she didn’t need a side-hustle. Only this year did the NWSL agree to raise the minimum wage to a living wage. Before this, Nile knew of teammates, friends, aspiring players back home who had to put in night shifts on top of training to have enough to live on. There is still so much work to do, and this is not even to close the gap between the men’s and women’s game, but just to give the women their due. What the women players earn as a proportion of what they’re bringing in far lags the men.

And now, here in Milan, one of these men is barking up her tree, which is flattering but also just really, really fraught in a way that’s difficult to explain. Back home, Nile has friends who’ve dated men from the MLS and it’s not so bad because the MLS isn’t exactly swimming in the limelight. Here, Nile is Black, which reads to the locals as exotic, like a tropical fruit, and American, which reads to the locals as potentially obnoxious.

If she dates a European soccer star, what would the locals think? That she’s seeking attention? Is she an American who doesn’t know her place in the world? Nile thinks back to her conversation with her mother, and then with a sigh, realizes that her mom is right, her mom is always right. Nile should at least talk to her friends in Milan about it.

Or friend. Nile really kind of only has one person in Milan whom she can even remotely mention these things to. She opens Whatsapp and begins typing.

Olga replies almost instantaneously.

Olga Ulatova  
online  
Hey Olga, how are you? Sorry to do this but please help a girl out here. There’s someone who likes me but I’m not sure I’m 100% on board…  
OMG Nile 😱😵🙏 tell me more!! Olga is always here for you 😎😘💖  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olga's avatar is taken from "Rilakkuma aesthetic" which is one of the best things you might see.
> 
> Credit to user ran_a_dom (revabhipraya) for [the Whatsapp skin tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842043/chapters/36893073)!
> 
> Also I might have said in an earlier comment that chapter 14 is a good one...actually I meant chapter 15...the next chapter. <.<


	15. [redacted]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile confides in Olga, seeking clarity on her feelings.

After more agonizing, Nile settles on going over to Olga’s house again, on the weekend of the next away game for Inter. Olga had asked if Nile wanted to talk about it over lunch or tea, but Nile said it might be too public for her to feel comfortable. Even before it begins it already has begun, the excessive paranoia about being accidentally spied upon.

As a joke, Olga says that the most private place for a conversation is out on the lake, in a kayak—they can’t bug a kayak!—and this is how Nile finds herself in the middle of Lake Como again.

“What is your big secret, Nile?” Olga prompts, when they are far enough from shore. “Tell me.”

Nile takes a deep breath—“Okay, okay. So I think I might have gone on a date. I say ‘might’ because I don’t think any of us used the word ‘date’ so technically it could be something else. But anyway. Yes. I went on a so-called date with...this guy. Who seems to be really into me, at least that’s what I think, but I also could be wrong, you know? But okay. So I never thought about him before, but now that he’s in the picture I’m like, yeah, you know what? He’s kind of cute. But also cute in a way that makes me cringe. So. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh Nile,” Olga says. “You went on just one date with this guy? Sounds like you should have a second one to confirm your feelings. One date is too little to judge sometimes.”

“Right? I think so too,” Nile says. “But it’s...I guess I’m scared Olga. Of the possibilities.”

“Why? What are you scared of? What’s the worst you think can happen? Tell me, Nile.”

“Okay...so...this guy is on your husband’s team,” Nile finally reveals, with a big exhale. “Please please please believe me when I say he slid into my DMs without warning. I didn’t do anything.” _Except...follow him...back. He followed me first...who knows when._

“Oh my god! Nile!” Olga exclaims. “Wait! Can I guess? I want to guess who.”

“Um,” Nile replies. “See now I’m really worried. Next thing I know you’re going to tell me he’s a total player and is seeing like fifty other women.”

“Ohh, you like him, Nile! Admit it, you do,” Olga teases gently.

“Hey!” Nile tries to protest, but it falls so flat Nile almost wants to cringe at herself. “Okay who are your guesses. I want to hear your reasoning.”

“Okay Nile, I know you are a woman of very high standards. And there are only three decent single men on the team. Believe me when I say the rest are...well let’s just say they have a long way to go.”

“Oh—pray tell, who are these three?”

“I’m looking at you Nile, and I’m trying to see which one of them fits. Okay. So the captain is out. He’s a decent man, and single yes, but he is not your type. He’s not...stylish enough if you know what I mean? This guy prays to Maldini every night and sleeps in smurf blue pajamas.”

Nile almost falls off the kayak laughing. “Smurf blue pajamas?”

“You know, like the Italian jersey. His car is also blue. He even wanted to paint his house blue but he got rejected. And lives with his mom, so I’m told.”

“Rejected?” Nile has heard of ridiculous baller requests but worse things than this have been allowed.

“Oh yes Nile these lakeside townships are very strict with the regulations. You can only paint the outside of your house in the approved colors. And blue is not one of them.”

“Good to know,” Nile muses.

“Yes, so as I was saying. Not the captain. So that just leaves me with two: Yusuf Al Kaysani and Sebastien Booker.”

Nile’s heart practically shoots to her throat on hearing the second name, but Olga launches into a gushing review of the former.

“Yusuf is—he’s the perfect man I swear. Ooh do you remember that Armani ad? Ooh la la, if I’m not a married woman…haha. But I am a married woman. Let’s move on. Yusuf is kind, very polite—he remembers everyone’s names and he’s so great with children. So great, Nile. I can’t believe he doesn’t have his own kids. He makes everyone laugh. But see, here’s my problem, Nile. He’s so perfect. How can he be single? I don’t buy it at all. My husband says no one at the club talks about it. He just says ‘guys never talk about their relationship status’ and he just heard from some other guys that Yusuf was single, and that was when he first joined? So it’s very unreliable information that I have on his status.”

“Wow,” Nile says. “I mean, I was at Barça just before he left, and he wasn’t big then, but he probably doesn’t remember this either. Anyway the women’s team train at the same grounds at Barça, and he always greeted us and said something nice about our results when he saw us. If we lost our most recent match he would say something encouraging, if we had won he would congratulate us. I definitely agree that he’s a class act. And now I’m really curious too. I believe you Olga. There’s no way that man is single,” Nile says, and then it hits her. The offhand silent addendum. There is no way this man is single unless he is [redacted] and Nile’s brain just temporarily goes into [galaxy brain mode]. _Holy shit._ Not to presume anything, but if a male footballer of this stature comes out it would be huge. A major reckoning for the sport.

“Yes. So Nile, we are left with one option, which is Sebastien. And to be honest with you, Nile, if you were dating Yusuf I don’t think you would be in this kind of dilemma.”

“Olga, you are a mind reader, I swear. You’re spot on.”

“Well, Nile, if it’s not one of these three men, they are definitely not single or worth your time and I will have to tell you to back off.”

“That’s reassuring at the least. What do you know about Booker?”

“He’s new to the team, so I can’t say I know more about him than the average person. His ex though,” Olga says in a way that denotes mild disapproval, with a sharp intake of breath.

Yeah...Booker’s ex is a country/pop star who is 11 years older than him and who has a reputation for writing songs about her exes...wait. She has a new album. Nile hasn’t bothered to listen to it. But—oh god. There’s probably at least one song about Booker on that album. To be honest, Nile has nothing against this pop star, who is quite a vocal feminist, which is actually really nice, but why oh why did she have to be the most recent ex?

“Well,” Olga continues. “Unfortunately I can't say if there are other girls for this one. You know how some of them like to have their hands in many pots—I would be careful, if I were you. But don’t worry Nile, I will get my husband on spying duties and I will let you know if I hear anything bad. In the meantime...you said he chased you first? Let him keep doing that Nile. Make him suffer for you. These boys are so spoiled in the rest of their lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yo listen up, here's the story/About a little guy that lives in a blue world_ Asadlkjasdkdas Nickyyyy NICKYYYY He's blue da ba dee da ba daa eh da ba dee dee daa eh
> 
> Update: I feel that it's important the world knows what car Nicky drives. [It's a blue BMW M2.](https://www.caranddriver.com/bmw/m2) IT'S VERY BLUE. It's also "humble" for a footballer's car (costs around $58k). In contrast, Booker drives a silver Range Rover Sport SVR (costs $110k). I don't know how to deal with the fact that I have thought of these details...I'm just channeling the inner footballer. Although I would never read this fic to my dad I imagine he approves of my choices vis-a-vis the characters as a car-obsessed individual...which explains my knowledge by osmosis.
> 
> Further update: I started thinking about what car Yusuf would drive...and it has to be Italian. It's gonna look so pretty, but does it really drive well? Does it really matter to Yusuf? No, it just has to be Italian. And pretty. The Maserati Quattroporte.


	16. sup??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker continues messaging Nile.

In another attempt to grab Nile’s attention, Booker decides to message her again, this time about her interest in art.

**Messages with** nile.freeman  
  
**__bookersebastien:** Heyy. I recall u mentioned ur studying art? My walls are looking pretty empty and I was curious if you have any suggestions 🧐  


Booker stares at his phone, waiting for a reply. He sees that Nile is online, and then he sees:  
_nile.freeman is typing…  
nile.freeman is typing…  
nile.freeman is typing…_

And then, all of a sudden, Nile isn’t typing anymore but there is no reply, and Nile drops offline. Booker decides he should stop looking at his phone so he will stop jinxing himself. He goes off to study the tactical videos that the boss assigned to him, on Parma’s midfield. Vecchi tends to be a bit lazy when the ball isn’t on his side of the field, the weakest point in the formation. Yep, Booker can try and exploit that. 

Unable to resist, he checks his phone for updates anyway.

**Messages with** nile.freeman  
  
**nile.freeman:** It’s art history, not art. But sure, if you give me a budget I can tell you what to look for 😃  
**__bookersebastien:** Are u taking a cut? 🤔  
**nile.freeman:** Thanks for the suggestion. Yes, I’ll take a 5% commission to help you buy the art. 😎 Fair compensation for labor, and you won't find a better price anywhere  
**__bookersebastien:** Sure haha  
**__bookersebastien:** I have no idea how much these things cost anyway  
**__bookersebastien:** I guess...I can do maybe 3-4 pieces? Is 50k a normal amount? Or is that too little?  
**nile.freeman:** Is that per piece or total budget? 🤔  
**__bookersebastien:** Ermmm whichever makes sense  
**__bookersebastien:** U decide 🤗  
**nile.freeman:** Sweet I’m gonna go with per piece, more $$ for me 😆  
**nile.freeman:**...jk jk I’ll give you a shortlist and you choose  
**__bookersebastien:** Sure. Do you need to see my walls?  


At this remark, Nile disappears offline. Booker wonders if he's made a wrong step, but then Nile appears online again.  
_nile.freeman is typing…  
nile.freeman is typing…_

**Messages with** nile.freeman  
  
**nile.freeman:** You mean like, to visualize where the art will go? I guess it makes sense for me to do that…  
**__bookersebastien:** Yea haha if u got me 4 mona lisas I wld still have a lot of empty space…  
**nile.freeman:** Sounds like someone’s showing off... Anyway the Mona Lisa is more than your net worth so please adjust your expectations 🙏🏿  
**__bookersebastien:** So...when would u like to come over? 😉  


Nile drops offline again. Booker puts his phone aside, but he keeps staring at it as if doing so will make the reply happen. Finally, his phone buzzes.  


**Messages with** nile.freeman  
  
**nile.freeman:** Monday afternoon?  
**__bookersebastien:** Sure. We play Parma on Sunday so Monday works  
**__bookersebastien:** My friend Yusuf might be around for some games if u don’t mind  
**__bookersebastien:** Also, we share a private chef so you can join us for lunch if u want  
**nile.freeman:** 😱😱😱  
**nile.freeman:** Yusuf as in Al Kaysani???  
**nile.freeman:** I’m in!! 👍🏿  
**nile.freeman:** See ya! 😁😁😁  


Booker stares at his phone. Why did he do that? Whatever it is, it worked. Okay, time to beg a bro for help. Booker fires off an emphatic message to his friend. 

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
last seen today at 1:52 PM  
**booker:** Yusuf?? Bro. I need your help bro. Please show up at my house on Monday. Also, who made that pesto pasta I had at your place last week?? I need the number to your private chef like right now. Help a bro please. 100000 karma points to you if you do  


It takes Yusuf nearly an hour to reply, by which time Booker has almost collapsed from nerves.

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
online  
**yusuf:** Sup??  
??  
The pesto pasta is a proprietary secret  
But sure I can show up Monday  
What’s going on  
Is it me or do you sound desperate?  
**booker:** I am desperate  
I have made mistakes  
**yusuf:** What did you do???  
**booker:** I asked Nile to come over  
**yusuf:** When???  
**booker:** Monday? That’s why I need u there  
**yusuf:**???? Why??? As a third wheel??  
**booker:** Be a wingman bro. Help me out  
It’s not supposed to be a date  
It’s actually like, professional  
I didn’t want it to get awkward  
So I just said you’ll be there  
**yusuf:** Professional???  
But okay yeah  
**booker:** I owe you  
Btw...who’s your private chef?? Number please?  
**yusuf:** Yeah I’m afraid I can’t share that  
Top secret~  
I thought you had one  
**booker:** I said I was gonna get one  
But never got around to it  
Anyway I’ve been eating your food  
Which is why I never got around to it  
But I told Nile that I’ll provide lunch  
**yusuf:** That’s your problem innit  
Also yes I’m aware you’ve been eating my food  
I’m gonna charge you for it  
😠  
**booker:** 🥺🥺🥺  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm gonna have to reveal Yusuf's private chef secret...yes the pesto pasta was made by Nicky—but since Nicky lives with his mom, it's actually Nicky's mom that makes most of their day-to-day meals. Nicky just cooks on special days or whenever he feels like it.


	17. baller cribs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile drops by Booker's place, as arranged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning:  
> -a parent expresses fears about sexual assault on dates, mention of cops  
> -food and body talk

Nile is in a private-hire car, sent by Booker, on her way to his place, when she starts hearing her mom’s voice in her head on all the crazy things again.

_Nile Freeman, you didn’t ask this man to delete your address off of his phone? You let him send a car to get you? You trust that this driver is really going to drive you to the correct place? What if he takes a turn off the freeway and sells you to human traffickers??_

_And when you get to your destination, all alone, to this man’s house...what do you think is gonna happen? He lives in the middle of nowhere and probably has soundproof rooms. And if you had to call the cops? They’d probably want his autograph._

Oh god, Nile thinks, and then tries to argue against this imaginary voice.

Pro: He said—that his friend will be there—I don’t have to stay long. I’m just taking wall measurements and leaving.

Anti: _His friend??? Whose side do you think his friend will be on?_

Pro: But everyone loves Yusuf Al Kaysani! He’s such a class act on and off the pitch…

Anti: _You can’t trust the public facade of these guys, Nile._

Pro: Okay, okay, maybe I can ask the driver to wait outside while I just pop in and out of the house quickly.

 _Fuck,_ Nile thinks, slightly angry at herself all of a sudden. She could have made Booker send her photos of his house and give her the measurements. Why didn't she think of that until now? Okay, so she probably got totally starstruck when he said Al Kaysani would be there—god, Nile is so gullible! What if Al Kaysani doesn’t even show up in the end? Booker could just excuse it with something like “something came up last minute, sorry” and there would be nothing Nile can do.

Nile did text Olga about this, but she felt too embarrassed to give Olga the full story, so she just told Olga that she has a second date with Booker on Monday, but she didn’t give the details of where this second date will take place. Nile imagines that if she did tell Olga it was at Booker’s place Olga might have yelled at her and told her to cancel it.

Which seems like the right thing to do, now that Nile reflects on it, but it is too late. The journey into Como is starting to get a little too familiar to Nile, the shape of certain trees are starting to look familiar, and the names of the towns on the signs are recognizable now. The car climbs and climbs, up a mountain, with nauseating switchbacks, until they have arrived at a sleek, contemporary villa with a subdued concrete exterior, framed by large minimalist glass panels, set behind a tall steel fence with slatted bars. The driver speeds off as soon as Nile gets out of the car, which makes Nile wonder if something was lost in translation when she asked him to wait around for her.

Nile rings the bell. It is Al Kaysani who picks up the intercom, and he greets her warmly and invites her in.

Nile sighs in relief. _Okay, so there is at least someone else around._ She just hopes that he is as trustworthy as everyone says he is.

Nile has some trouble finding the main door (sometimes these architectural houses are a little too architectural), and she accidentally wanders into the pool deck, which has expansive views down the hillside into the lake. When she turns around she realizes that Booker and Al Kaysani are waving to her from inside the house, and Booker slides open a massive glass panel to greet her.

“Hey Nile!” Booker greets, running a hand through his hair and then scratching the back of his head.

“Nile! So good to see you!” Al Kaysani enthuses, beaming at her with the kindest, most beautiful smile. “I hope you remember me from Barcelona, Yusuf? How have you been! How do you like Milan? Or do you still miss Barça?”

Nile is nearly swept off her feet by Yusuf’s charm. “Uh…h-hi, I can’t believe this” she stutters. “Wow. Yes, of course I remember you. I’m surprised you remember me. Um, do you miss Barcelona?”

“The truth is, I do sometimes,” says Yusuf. “But I’ve fallen in love with Milan.”

At this, Booker throws his friend a judgy look, but doesn’t say anything.

“Nile, you’ve arrived just in time for lunch,” Booker says instead, leading everyone back into the house. “This is Enzo, my private chef. I hired him recently actually but um, he used to cook at a Michelin-starred restaurant.”

“Oh nice, which one?” Nile asks, to make polite conversation, although it’s not likely that she will have heard of it.

“Um...hey Enzo, where did you cook at again?”

“Seta,” Enzo replies, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” Booker says with a shrug.

Oops, Nile thinks. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

They sit at the dining table, which is surrounded by an array of mismatching chairs. The dining area opens into views of the mountain on one side and overlooks the pool on the other. Fucking footballers’ cribs, Nile thinks with a mix of envy and amazement. To be fair, she’s seen, on YouTube and social media, some fugly McMansion examples, but the interiors of Booker’s house have a warm, mid-century modern design to them, with plenty of wood to offset the cold concrete exteriors. Nile hates to admit it, but Booker has surprisingly good taste.

Enzo serves up the dishes, and they have grilled chicken on a bed of quinoa with vegetables, roasted broccolini, drizzled with a lemon herb pan sauce. The key difference between Nile’s plate and the guys’ is that Nile gets a layer of crispy skin on her chicken, and Nile notices that Yusuf seems to be eyeing her plate with some envy.

“Do you want some?” Nile offers, pointing at the crispy chicken skin with her fork. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“Nah it’s okay,” Yusuf says resignedly, with a faint smile.

 _I guess that’s what it takes to fine tune the human body to perfection,_ Nile thinks, but doesn’t say it.

“I love the wood you have on the ceiling and the floors. It makes this place so warm,” Nile compliments, to move the conversation along.

“Oh yeah? I’m glad Kalulu couldn’t take those with him because I love it too. He took almost all the furniture though,” Booker gestures at what Nile thought was a deliberately minimalist living room. “He left me with just one two-seater couch and a rug he got scammed into buying. The rest of the furniture I collected from other players moving away or when their wives want to redecorate, which is why nothing really matches.”

“Kalulu? This was AC Milan Kalulu’s?”

“Yeah, man’s got great taste, doesn’t he?”

Nile may have given Booker too much credit, but somehow the chaotic mix of furniture works with the interiors, and that sounds like Booker's doing. “The plants are a nice touch,” Nile offers.

“Oh yeah my agent put those in for me,” Booker replies, “to cheer me up because I get depressed easily. He comes in to water them for me too, can you believe it?”

 _I...can actually believe it?_ Nile thinks, but it sounds a little rude to say so she looks to Yusuf for help. He acknowledges her with a slight raise of one eyebrow.

“As you can see, the walls are empty,” Yusuf mentions. “And Nile is the expert here, the one we can trust to put masterpieces worthy of attention on the wall.”

At this point, everything feels surreal to Nile. No one ever does anything for themselves in this world. Every bit of labor is outsourced. “Ha..ha...I am not a real expert…” Nile says awkwardly. “I’m just a grad student trying my best…”

“I’m sure you’ll do better than either of us,” Yusuf reassures with a kind smile.

There is dessert, after lunch, a surprise treat.

"We always get dessert," Yusuf explains, beaming.

"Yeah, if they take dessert away all the players will go on strike," Booker adds, sounding very French. "They just give us the tiniest portions they can get away with."

 _Wow,_ Nile thinks.

After dessert, they go about measuring the empty walls, and Nile tries to get a sense of Booker’s style preferences, which sound all over the place. Yusuf, to his credit, seems like a culturally enlightened man, asking Nile about issues of representation, and gently nudges the conversation in the direction of “why don’t we let Nile show us art that means something to her?”

“That was what I was trying to do in the first place,” Booker protests. “But Nile asked me what I liked so I tried describing some things, and now you’re kicking me for it.”

“Sorry bro,” Yusuf says, clapping a hand on Booker’s shoulder. “I forgot that you’re at your best when you let others shine. That’s what the finest playmakers do, don’t they? They bring out the best in the people around them.” At this, Yusuf gives Nile a knowing look.

 _Oh,_ Nile realizes. She’s been played, and played real good. Whatever these guys think are doing, they have an incredible instinct for getting it right. In terms of the dating game, Nile is pretty much sold. A sellout. _The_ sellout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Booker gave Yusuf a judgy look for saying "I fell in love with Milan" it's because he thinks Yusuf used the wrong preposition. Booker: _Did you mean "I fell in love IN Milan"_
> 
> Ok so I actually updated the chapter 15 notes to talk about cars if anyone's interested, because I get quite obsessive with character details. Go see if you want to know what cars Nicky and Booker drive, and I might throw in Yusuf's just for the heck of it.
> 
> [This is the inspiration for Booker's house](https://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/sales/detail/180-l-2727-xjy7xm/via-panoramica-san-pietro-como-co), but remember to visually strip out all the furniture and imagine that it's kind of sparse/minimal, but also that nothing matches in his house, especially the dining chairs which all look different.
> 
> In contrast, Yusuf lives in [something like this](https://tranio.com/italy/adt/1808310/) and Nicky lives in [something like this](https://search.savills.com/property-detail/gbslaklai150285), but they live around Brunate. Yusuf is very close to the lake shore, while both Booker and Nicky live higher up in the mountains. Olga lives in [something like this](https://www.engelvoelkers.com/en-it/property/exclusive-villa-with-access-to-lake-como-4093878.1332218_exp/), with a wharf directly into the lake for the kayaking.


	18. what you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following up from the non-date of the previous chapter, there is a real date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> San Siro = stadium shared by Inter Milan and AC Milan  
> Derby della Madonnina = the Milanese inter-city derby between Inter and Milan 
> 
> AC Milan is also known as "Milan", or the rossoneri (red/blacks = club colors), or il diavolo (the devil)
> 
> Internazionale's short name is "Inter", but frequently referred to as Inter Milan as there are other clubs named Inter. Inter is also known as the nerazzuri (black/blues = club colors)
> 
> take home the scudetto = win the Serie A. Serie A winners get to wear the little shield (aka scudetto) on their jersey the following season.

Nile does not hang out for too long at Booker’s place—the boys turn on the PlayStation after they’re done helping her with the measurements and Nile heads back to Milan. The moment she steps into her apartment she gets a message from Booker, asking her out on a real date this time.

The second date is in a sushi restaurant, also in a private room away from prying eyes, but it’s a real private room this time, not some repurposed closet.

Unfortunately, Inter lost to Roma in their most recent game, which puts them behind AC Milan on the table, and Booker is subdued for the duration of the dinner, letting Nile do most of the talking.

Nile talks about missing her family, but also that they’ll be flying down in December to spend Christmas with her. Booker offers to get Nile’s family tickets to any match at the San Siro, and hey—you know what, the Derby della Madonnina with AC Milan happens to be in December this year. Nile takes up the offer, mostly because it’s difficult to get tickets otherwise. Ah, the perks of dating an elite footballer.

In the early 2020’s, the Serie A went through a revolution similar to that of the Premier League in the 2000s. The coronavirus crisis collapsed club revenues and foreign investment began to pour in to prop things up. Governmental efforts to clean up the racism and corruption in the game also proved successful, bargaining chips in returning live spectators to stadia. Juventus’s decline with the end of the Cristiano Ronaldo era also coincided with the renaissance of the Milanese clubs, flaunting an assured cosmopolitanism. Thrown into the mix were closely contested title races with Atalanta and Napoli, meaning that the fight for a Champions League spot was dogged and at times brutal. The increased competition made the league as a whole attractive to TV audiences worldwide.

In terms of tactics, the Milanese clubs led the charge. Andrea Pirlo was seduced back to the rossoneri, his former club, bringing back a high-glitz, high-tempo style, with a star-studded team that played an attractive style of possession-based gameplay. On the blue side of the San Siro, Gaetano Veratti was brought in to replace the outgoing Conte after a disastrous season plagued by injuries. Veratti brought in with him a breath of fresh air, favoring young players to balance out seasoned first teamers—giving Nicolò Di Genova, bought on the cheap from the relegated Genoa CFC, his big break. Veratti’s Inter weren’t the best to watch, but they were very effective, with Di Genova as Veratti’s loyal guard dog, nipping on the heels of any primadonna striker.

However, it was when defensive stalwart de Vrij tore his ACL and had to sit out the rest of the season that his younger compatriot emerged from the sub bench to steal the limelight. Al Kaysani and Di Genova quickly formed an unshakeable partnership that frustrated teams composed of the attacking lineups of wet dreams. Together, they earned record clean sheets and a Coppa Italia win. The next season, the club would take home the scudetto, and reach the finals of the Champions League, where a 5-3 loss on penalties to Real Madrid precipitated a huge morale drop. Senior players chose to retire, and some of the younger players never regained form. Even Di Genova, the newly-minted team captain, and Al Kaysani made disastrous mistakes at the start of the 2023-2024 season, and shaky ownership problems during 2025-2026 led to Veratti being shown the door.

New club majority owner Steven Merrick, of Merrick Pharmaceuticals, which made a killing from the coronavirus vaccine, wanted fast results and threw money around until it stuck—first with Andy Skifska, and next with players like Sebastien LeLivre. It’s clear he knows where the money in football is, and he wants the glamour of attacking players who bring in the fans. If Nile were to make a big bet, it would be that Inter is definitely on the hunt for a star striker, on the level of a Haaland or Moukoko, and this is without inside information.

Back to the most recent league game. Inter lost to Roma, and Booker had the best chance of that night to at least equalize but he fumbled it. Booker actually looks down enough that at one point during the dinner, Nile finds herself reaching across to hold his hand, hoping to provide sympathetic reassurance. Unfortunately, her move throws Booker off completely, and he just stares at her like he can’t believe what just happened.

 _Oh god._ Wait. Nile is going to freak out now. Why did she touch Booker? He looked like such a sad puppy she couldn’t help it!

Booker looks away shyly, but this is where Nile sees him smile for the first time that evening. _Wow, he’s cute,_ Nile thinks, her heart doing a somersault.

Booker is smiling at his feet, but it’s also painfully obvious that he’s trying to stop smiling. He’s scratching his nose and putting his hand to his chin like he needs to cover it up.

And Nile, ever the queen of her namesake river, is trying to deal with the voice in her head that screams you don’t have a crush on this man, you don’t!

But Nile does. It makes her feel so immature, like some sort of middle school kid who just dropped off a secret valentine. _I can’t believe this is happening to me! I’m a grown-ass woman, a quarter of a century old. Grown-ass women don’t have juvenile crushes, or do they?_ Nile actually has no idea. Maybe she just has to admit she doesn’t have as much life experience in this aspect, having given most of her years to football.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry haha this chapter is the wham-bam exposition of football talk, because it is necessary to set the foundations for this fic. I could keep...going on about the football if asked...this might be an invitation for readers to ask... (down with Juve down with Juve this is a Juve anti...LOL ok sry i am actually not that against Juve but...since they have CR7 they've been unforgivable) 
> 
> Perhaps at this point I should acknowledge the passing of the unparalleled Diego Maradona as well. A larger than life figure who exceeds the imagination, he will very much be missed for his symbolic contribution, and he has some real banging quotes I would get tattooed on my body were I a footballer. The 2019 documentary on Maradona by Asif Kapadia is highly recommended, and it will also help you understand the north-south divide in Italy, which is a whole other essay. In honor and tribute to Maradona, this fictional Inter team will lose to Napoli in every matchup this year.
> 
> Also, Merrick making money off the coronavirus vaccine 😠😠😠
> 
> But Nile!! Being Queen of the Nile... (i'm sure others must have made this bad joke by now)
> 
> There is a "DVD bonus extra" of Booker and Nile's date #3, following from this chapter, [you can read it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798422).


	19. enemies to lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just be a good person, okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: this fic makes multiple references to COVID19 and the coronavirus crisis

The days are getting shorter, which cuts into Nicolò Di Genova’s golfing hours, and soon enough the captain becomes a feature of Booker and Yusuf’s gaming sessions.

Sometimes, Nichi—which is what the locals call him, pronounced just like Nicky—joins in on their games and sometimes he just goes off to another room to do his own thing, which is to watch replays of football matches from other teams, other leagues. He watches a lot of football, in a singularly obsessive manner.

After that time Booker asked Yusuf about their relationship, Yusuf set up a proper apology session, which was extremely nerve-wracking, but as it turns out the captain is a pretty cool guy.

How it went was: Booker had written out a whole paragraph on the notes app like a social media mea culpa, but Nichi took one look and was like “please cut the bullshit, just be a good person okay?” The wonderful thing about that blunt response was that the captain basically obliterated any anxiety Booker felt, and now that they’re on good terms, the serial killer vibes have totally stopped.

In place of that Booker now has an extreme front-row view of the affection between his two friends and teammates and it’s a whole different set of feelings. It’s good that they’re comfortable enough around Booker to touch each other, but it’s not like they’re intentionally doing it either. In fact, Booker gets the sense that they’re really restrained around him. He’s never seen them kiss, hug, or even hold hands, and what he’s seeing is just the tiniest, most insignificant things, and yet these are the most unsettling of all. These small moments are just so intimate, the very definition of stolen moments—things Booker really shouldn’t be allowed to see at all. How else do you explain the way their little toes touch when they have their legs propped up on the coffee table, while at the same time they are shooting each other’s brains out on the TV screen?

Or the way Nichi occasionally leans over into Yusuf to show him something on his phone, and the way Yusuf smiles in response—always with the phone tilted away from Booker so he has no idea what’s going on. All Booker can see is the smiles on their faces, the slight nudge of the elbow, always accompanied by the gentlest, softest of laughs. Something about observing that eats Booker alive, and it takes him weeks to realize it’s jealousy, or envy. Booker wants what they have.

One day, Booker works up the courage to ask them when they got together, and the two lovebirds simply exchange a look, in perfectly mirrored versions of the other, before saying at the exact same time, “2020 coronavirus lockdown.”

 _Putain bonne mère, that’s six years they’ve been together._ It’s way longer than Booker imagined. Also, didn’t the captain’s dad die during this period? Booker faintly recalls from his googling. How is it that Nicolò Di Genova woke up one day and decided that he would man-mark Yusuf Al Kaysani for life?

The funniest thing is that the year before Yusuf joined Inter, there was a fairly notorious Champions League semifinal in which they came to blows. Yusuf was with Barcelona then, as a roster player, and Nichi already at Inter. The match had been very heated, and Inter were on the losing end, having lost one man to a red card and being a goal down. In the closing minutes of the match Barça scored another one from a corner, the final nail in the coffin, and apparently Yusuf pushed Nicolò over in the six-yard box but the referee ruled it as accidental. At the final whistle, Nicolò, then a hot-headed and impulsive firecracker of a Rottweiler, basically hounded Yusuf for the excessive shoving, barking insults down Yusuf’s neck until Yusuf couldn’t stand it any more and shoved him away. Nicolò retaliated, and then they came to blows going into the tunnel, until their teammates jumped in to tear them apart, blood pouring down their faces from split lips and broken noses. Both defenders were subject to disciplinary action after the altercation, and Yusuf missed out on participating in the Champions League final, which Barça won.

Booker notes with some irony the parallels to his own history with the captain. On more than one occasion has Inter brought into the team Nicolò Di Genova’s most recent antagonist. Karma can be such a pain in the ass.

In some ways, Nichi’s appearances at their gaming sessions feels like a territorial assertion, a reminder to Booker that the captain has first dibs on Yusuf. Message well received, Booker resolves to spend more time with Nile, and what’s nice about it is that the more time he spends with Nile, the more he _wants_ to spend time with her. It’s a wonderful feedback loop, and soon enough Nile spends nights at his place, occasionally at first, but then it settles into a regular, recurring kind of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Nicky showed Joe on the phone is...[sea urchin hats](https://www.boredpanda.com/sea-urchins-tiny-hats/).


	20. deck the halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is December, and Nile's family arrives in Milan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> -this fic makes multiple references to COVID19 and the coronavirus crisis  
> -holocaust mention, fascism/Mussolini mention

‘Tis the season of goodwill, glad tidings and midweek league games!

Nile wrapped up coverage of the Champions League group stage (Inter Milan drew with Bayern Munich to top their group on goal differences) on Wednesday, and on Friday, she goes to Milano Centrale to pick up her mother and brother.

Milano Centrale is designed to make you feel small. It is a megalomaniac station, a monument to fascist architecture, decorated with symbols demonstrating strength and power at Mussolini’s insistence.

For this reason, Nile refuses to be impressed by the station, in an act of defiance. She read that there is a secret track built during the holocaust years to deport Italian Jews to extermination camps, which makes her shudder to be in the place. If she is here, it is purely for transit reasons, just like the hundreds of thousands of people that pass the station each day.

She spots the familiar figures alighting the airport train, and she nearly tackles her brother with the force of her run-and-hug, American football style.

After one year of college soccer, Nile was scouted for Barcelona Femení, who were willing to buy out her scholarship. She moved to the Catalonian capital to play football late in 2019, continuing her undergraduate studies remotely, and taking some units on exchange at the University of Barcelona. Due to the coronavirus crisis, she was not able to return home for almost two years. From 2021, she was lucky enough to get special travel permission because of her job and was able to return home to visit her family, after the Summer Olympics which were held on a staggered basis by sport, and without audiences. Even so, she had traveled as minimally as she could manage, to reduce any risk.

Her family will be staying with her, and Nile plans to take them to the Christmas markets, and there is also the derby with AC Milan. Her mom wants to travel to the Vatican City, despite her family being Methodists, and they will go to Florence at her brother’s request, and then when everything in Italy closes for the holidays, they will decamp to Lake Como, staying at Booker’s place.

It is the last part that makes Nile nearly want to throw up from nerves. The last time she felt this nauseated was last season, being 2-0 down at halftime in the Women’s Champions League final against Lyon. That year Barcelona staged a miraculous comeback in the second half, with a hat trick from Nile to take the trophy home. That was pretty much why Nile got her second FIFA best player award. Good times, although the day after Nile couldn’t get out of bed at all—that was how much her joints hurt in the aftermath.

They’ve been on enough dates now, they’ve even slept with each other—but introducing someone to your family members—that’s a whole different ballgame. In her previous relationships, sometimes the introduction happened early (that was with her college roommate Ren), sometimes her mom knew it before Nile really came out with it (like with her high school teammate Laura). Nile feels like they’re at a point where it’s sort of right, even if it feels like they’re mostly looking for an excuse to use Booker’s luxurious Lake Como house as a vacation house—but Booker insisted that he really, really wanted it to happen.

Nile’s mom has been kept updated about her relationship status, but Nile gets the feeling her mom is largely trying to withhold judgement while letting Nile have her fun in a burgeoning relationship. At the least, it’s reassuring to know that her mom will always have her back, no matter how it turns out.

Her little brother Antoine is all grown up now, and in college on an (American) football scholarship. They love accusing each other of playing the wrong kind of football, just another one of a long-standing series of neverending sibling arguments. As the older sister, Nile tries to force her brother into a surprise noogie, and they almost run around screaming like a pair of five year old kids, ever the obnoxious Americans with zero regard for their surroundings.

Nile takes her family out to her favorite trattoria and her favorite gelato place. Antoine is gobsmacked by the fashion shops and Nile has to restrain him from going wild with the shopping. Most of all, Nile is happy to have this time with her mother, and she loves the pride in her mother’s eyes when she shows them confidently around the city, speaking Italian if she needs to. My baby’s all grown up, her mom says, as they walk arm-in-arm down the festively-decorated arcade of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wondering...is there a preference to whether I continue trying to post daily or should I post like five chapters once a week? Ty to the loyal readers at any rate!! I really really appreciate that there are people outside of myself who enjoy this story.
> 
> Since we are now in December in terms of this fic (and in real time), this song would be on the fic soundtrack! [What Are You Doing New Year's Eve by Ella Fitzgerald](https://youtu.be/LQfZTPKzRZ0) Go listen to it and think about Booker's feelings for Nile hahaha.
> 
> _Maybe it's much too early in the game  
>  Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same  
> What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?_


	21. derby della madonnina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inter Milan play AC Milan at the San Siro!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> San Siro = stadium shared by Inter Milan and AC Milan. Also, I just realized, 20 chapters in, that this fic being in 2026, it should actually be the new stadium LOL what a glaring error. From now on let us pretend they go on calling the new stadium the San Siro. (How can they let that name goooooo it's so iconic also how are they letting the San Siro goooooo D:)
> 
> Derby della Madonnina = the Milanese inter-city derby between Inter and Milan
> 
> AC Milan is also known as "Milan", or the rossoneri (red/blacks = club colors), or il diavolo (the devil)
> 
> FC Internazionale Milano's short name is "Inter", but frequently referred to as Inter Milan as there are other clubs named Inter. Inter is also known as the nerazzuri (black/blues = club colors)

The Round of 16 draw for the Champions League happens at noon, and the team is gathered in the indoor training hall to watch it on a screen.

They will go against Paris Saint-Germain. A good proportion of the national team comes from there, so Booker has to share what weaknesses he knows with the boss.

Midweek arrives, and brings with it the first of the Milan city derbies, the Derby della Madonnina, named after the statue of the Virgin Mary on the spire of the city’s most famous landmark, the Duomo. Though both teams share the same stadium, for this round AC Milan get the benefit of being the home side, which might make things a bit rough for Inter.

Not to mention the fact that Nile’s family is watching...in an AC Milan sponsor VIP box. Booker had to get his agent to arrange it so that there wasn’t any obvious connection to him, but why did his agent have to go stick them in rossoneri territory? The only hope is that no one in the VIP box takes football seriously enough to start fights if...they appear to be cheering for the wrong team.

Oh well. It’s too late for changes anyway.

The referee blows on the whistle, and the match begins.

AC Milan—masters of the New Italian Cosmopolitanism. They move the ball around the field like a brushstroke from the painterly masters, but instead of Da Vinci or Caravaggio, their manager Pirlo is the Boccioni that takes the art into the future, emphasizing speed, youth, technology.

The boss has asked them to play 4-2-3-1. Essentially, it’s a 6-3-1 formation where the defensive midfielders function as backline support. Booker is tasked with a box-to-box role, and to focus on cleaning up messes.

It’s not pretty, but they have to meet this Milan with brute force or face the risk of being pried open like a delicious scallop.

It works. The AC Milan fans hate them. Booker practically suffocates Havertz to the point where Havertz seems to be kicking at him with extra force when Booker has the ball. Booker doesn’t want this to end in a fight—it would be so embarrassing if it ends up that way when the girlfriend’s mom is watching.

Halftime is a livewire affair, both teams near the boiling point of outright aggression. The captain is asked to give a speech to rally the troops, and he serves the most bloodthirsty speech Booker has ever heard.

_Let us slay the devils that have invaded these sacred grounds, let us spill their blood to cleanse this cathedral._

If they can wear down Milan, the boss will sub in sprightly Ortega, fresh legs for the kill.

It’s _on_.

At the 79th minute Havertz attempts to make a pass to Pellestri but Booker makes a well-timed tackle to dispossess. The ball falls to Musa on the flank, with a backheel to Symanowski just as two Milan players close in on him. Booker is well positioned to receive from Symanowski, and Ortega and Musa are both making their runs. Booker makes the cross, and Ortega pokes it in, but it bounces off the goalkeeper and Musa knees it in for real.

Ortega pounces on Musa with celebratory joy, and the rest of the team swallow them up into a group hug. Milan 0, Inter 1.

At the 87th minute there is a foul on Symanowski, and Booker is asked to take the free kick.

Scoring from a dead ball—well, as a kid Booker was obsessed with imitating the technique of one man in particular.

Yep, the one and only Andrea Pirlo.

Booker strikes the ball. It flies upwards, high above the heads of leaping defenders in the wall, and it looks like it might whizz hopelessly above the crossbar—but right at the last possible millisecond it dips, arcing into the top corner, out of the goalie’s reach even if he tried, and boy did he try. Booker wonders if he should cave into the urge to make eye contact with the opposing team’s manager, but he is buried under a pile of sweaty bodies.

After the match, the captain makes a congratulatory speech in the dressing room: “We have slaughtered the infernal beast; tonight we can feast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Andrea Pirlo, whom I made manager of AC Milan, and who is actually one of my all time faves. Pirlo said he learned his free kick technique from Juninho, if you want to trace the lineage.
> 
> Nicky's speech is a bit of a creepy reference to his Crusades participation, esp with AC Milan being il diavolo (the devils).


	22. all i want for christmas is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker meets Nile's family and celebrates Christmas with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for: history of family violence/domestic violence (Booker's side)
> 
> I'm posting this chapter a little early since it's eating my brain. Up till now, I think the story has been on an upward arc, but we're basically at the apex of the rollercoaster, and we're gonna have a helluva ride from here. The plot's gonna hurtle down, and up, and up and down, and twisting around with loop-de-loops. How exciting!!! By the time you get off this rollercoaster I hope you've entered some new cosmic dimensions.

There are two other matches for the league, Lazio at home, a 1-0 win, and Cagliari away, a 2-1 loss, and then Christmas break arrives.

Booker is introduced to Nile’s family—her mother, Willabelle, whom Booker addresses as Mrs Freeman, and her brother, Antoine. He asks them about Rome, and they regale him with stories of gladiators, absolute state power, the stripping of travertine from the Colosseum, the shift in power to the Vatican and more.

Booker has never put up a Christmas tree in his life, and he tells Nile that he wants to try, so Nile drives out with her family to the garden center to pick up a real one.

Enzo is off for the holidays, but before he leaves he prepares enough food with instructions for Booker to follow. It sounds easy enough—most things he just needs to stick in the oven, or sear on the grill. Enzo has “PAY ATTENTION TO THE TIMER” written in all caps and underlined multiple times. Booker doesn’t dare to deviate from Enzo’s instructions in any way, and spends his time staring the clock down on the lasagna.

Before long, Booker hears a commotion, and Nile and her brother are bringing in the Christmas tree from the poolside door, since it’s too big for the main door. Booker abandons staring at the oven to help them, but he frets about the lasagna, filling up with a useless sense of anxiety that the oven could burst into flames at any moment. At this point, Antoine graciously offers to look after the cooking, relieving Booker of his feelings of ineptitude.

At the garden center, Nile had called to ask Booker what size of tree he wanted, and Booker had blithely said “10 feet”, assuming 10 feet was around 2 meters, feeling very cool and American as he had said so. In actual fact, 10 feet turns out to be just over 3 meters, but the lucky thing is that this comically oversized tree still fits in Booker’s minimalist living room, with just enough clearance for a star topper.

Nile has preordered a bunch of ornaments, and they unbox the ornaments to hang them up. They have to spread out the decoration so as to give the tree some sense of aesthetic balance, and Mrs Freeman suggests that they would really be better off if they could lop off some of the excess height. The largest blade in Booker’s house is the bread knife Enzo brought in, so appalled was he by the lack of a decent set of quality knives in the house when he started work. They won’t be able to saw the tree themselves, nor are they keen on driving back to the garden center, so they end up leaving the tree as it is.

“I don’t know if this is correct, but my sister asked me to get these,” Antoine says, taking out some extra ornaments from his suitcase—a dreidel, a menorah, a hamsa.

Booker smiles with a shrug. “I don’t have any traditions so these look perfect to me.”

Booker’s kind of Jewish on his mother’s side, which was something she occasionally mentioned? What Booker knows is that his grandfather is from Morocco and he grew up alongside the immigrant community in the quartiers nord of Marseille. Technically, under FIFA rules he could have been called up to play for Morocco, although Booker suspects the Moroccan Fed had zero idea this option was even available to them. It’s too late now, Booker has played way more than three caps for France.

Booker’s dad is white, Catholic, French, but he was an asshole that beat up his mom, especially on days when Olympique Marseille lost. The spirit of Christmas definitely wasn’t a thing in their house.

Funny how his dad would leave, funny how Booker would play for Marseille.

“City kids trying to act country,” Mrs Freeman says disapprovingly, as she observes her children from the side. Nile and Antoine insist on trying out the real log fireplace but can’t get the logs to ignite.

Booker doesn’t know how to say that he always feels like he’s playacting in life—that nothing ever seems real to him, not since he was offered a spot with the OM academy, something that made him happy. The same day he got the news was the only time his older brother beat him up, out of sheer jealousy, for his brother was rejected the year before. This is the same brother who protected him when their dad went on a rampage, who would fight with their dad for beating up their mom, while Booker ran to cover their little sister’s eyes and ears so she wouldn’t know what was going on.

“Step aside and let me do it,” Mrs Freeman declares, after watching her children struggle to no avail.

Mrs Freeman gets the logs burning in no time at all, and Nile and Antoine express their amazement. It turns out that Mrs Freeman spent her childhood in the state of Georgia, where her parents imparted real survival skills—the things you learn growing up on a rural farm where you must be self-sufficient or die.

Mrs Freeman praises the art that Booker has on his walls, and he can’t be any prouder to tell her that Nile chose the pieces for him.

“They’re real?” Antoine asks, jaw gaping.

“Yeah,” Nile says. “They’re not as expensive as you think.”

“I think your idea of what’s expensive changed,” Antoine marvels.

“Hey,” Nile says, and then shoves Antoine playfully. “Do you want to hear about them?”

“We’ve got the time so why not?” Antoine mutters obligingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nile exclaims, indignant.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but when you’re talking about something you like you can keep going on, and on, and on…”

“Hey!” Nile protests.

“Let her speak, Antoine,” Mrs Freeman weighs in.

* * *

**Here are the art pieces Nile Freeman chose:**

1\. Loïs Mailou Jones, Mme. Feugeront à Cabris, AM.

> Loïs Mailou Jones was a Black American artist and educator. Born in Boston, Massachussetts in 1950, Jones' parents encouraged her to draw and paint. She graduated from the School of the Museum of Fine Arts Boston, and received a graduate degree in design from the Design Art School of Boston before deciding to pursue a BA in art education from Howard University, graduating in 1945.
> 
> Jones moved to Paris in 1937 to study at the Academie Julien. Jones fell in love with the French way of life and lack of racial prejudice, and was introduced to Céline Tabary, a fellow student, when she needed help translating. The two became friends, and Jones visited Tabary’s family in Cabris.
> 
> Cabris is in the Alpes Maritimes of the south of France, and Jones painted many colorful landscapes around the sunny and craggy hills of this picturesque medieval town. She considers paintings she did there some of her best. It was also in this town that Jones married the artist Louis Vergniaud Pierre-Noël of Haiti in 1953.
> 
> As a child, Jones met many artistic and cultural figures at her parents’ house in Martha’s Vineyard, including the Black female sculptor Meta Vaux Warrick Fuller, who was Rodin’s protegée.
> 
> More reading:
> 
> [The actual art piece on Swann Galleries](https://catalogue.swanngalleries.com/Lots/auction-lot/LO%C3%8FS-MAILOU-JONES-\(1905---1998\)-Mme-Feugeront-%C3%A0-Cabris-AM?saleno=2554&lotNo=25&refNo=775979)  
>  [Artnet biography](http://www.artnet.com/artists/lois-mailou-jones/)  
>  [Loïs Mailou Jones and Céline Tabary](https://nmwa.org/blog/artist-friendships-lois-mailou-jones-and-celine-tabary/)

2\. Jerry Lynn, Homestead

> Together with twin brother Terry, Jerry and Terry Lynn make up the artistic duo known as Twin. Born in 1975 in Tennessee, the twins grew up in a tight-knit family where stories from their relatives about growing up in rural Southeastern US communities have become the brothers' visual vocabulary. Their historically narrative paintings depict an unidentifiable time period in Black family life: fields, churches, blues music, and family gatherings.
> 
> Homestead is a solo effort from Jerry. Through the choice of colors, urban marks that might be symbolic of hip hop or graffiti, and collaged items – be it cotton bolls, twill ticking, newspaper clippings, or glitter– Jerry takes historic imagery and jolts it into the current century.
> 
> Their list of collectors reads like a Who’s Who of entertainment and includes Kanye West, Black Enterprise founder Earl Graves, Ralph White of Earth Wind and Fire, Singer/song writer Kem, Alonzo & Tracey Mourning, BET Founder Bob Johnson, former NBA player and restaurant mogul Ulysses ‘Junior’ Bridgeman, and countless others.
> 
> More reading:  
>  [&S Gallery bio](https://www.eandsgallery.com/twin--jerry---terry-lynn-.html)  
>  [David Lusk Gallery bio](https://www.davidluskgallery.com/artists/jerry.lynn)

3\. Beauford Delaney, Paris Window

> “I learned about light from Beauford Delaney, the light contained in every thing, in every surface, in every face. Many years ago in poverty and uncertainty, Beauford and I would walk together through the streets of New York City. He was then, and is now, working all the time, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he is seeing all the time; and the reality of his seeing caused me to begin to see.”  
>  –James Baldwin on Beauford Delaney
> 
> Beauford Delaney was an American Harlem Renaissance painter known for his colorful Modernist compositions and distinctive approach to figuration. One of the most important African-American artists of the early 20th century, he often painted New York street scenes, lively scenes in jazz clubs, and portraits of prominent black figures like James Baldwin and W.E.B. Du Bois. Delaney struggled his entire life with poverty, disenfranchisement, and prejudice—not only against his African-American heritage, but also against his homosexuality.
> 
> Born on December 30, 1901 in Knoxville, TN as one of 10 children, he worked as a sign-post painter as a teenager before going on to study in Boston at the Massachusetts Normal School, the South Boston School of Art, and the Copley Society. After school, he moved to Harlem in New York, where he befriended fellow artists like Alfred Stieglitz and Stuart Davis, who introduced him to the work of Modernists like Paul Cézanne, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, and others. He moved to Europe in 1953 but was unable to find the same success he previously had in New York, and gradually succumbed to alcoholism and mental health problems before his death on March 26, 1979 in Paris, France. Today, Delaney’s works are in the collections of the Art Institute of Chicago, The Museum of Modern Art in New York, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art, among others.
> 
> More reading:  
>  [James Baldwin on Beauford Delaney](https://www.davidzwirner.com/news/james-baldwin-on-beauford-delaney)  
>  [Artnet bio](http://www.artnet.com/artists/beauford-delaney/)

4\. Marc Chagall, The Tribe of Simeon (signed lithograph)

> Born Moishe Shagal on July 7, 1887 in Vitebsk, Russia (present-day Belarus) to a Hasidic Jewish family, the artist was raised immersed in Jewish culture and iconography. Studying under the artist Yehuda Pen as a youth, the Judaic traditions and folklore of his hometown permeated Chagall’s paintings. After studying in St. Petersburg, the artist moved to Paris in 1910, where he quickly befriended members of the French avant-garde, including Robert Delaunay and Fernand Léger. Visiting Russia in 1914, the artist was prevented from returning to Paris due to the outbreak of World War I until 1926. In addition to his paintings, Chagall was also noted for his vibrant works in stained glass and lithography. Forced to flee Paris during World War II, Chagall lived in the United States and traveled through to Israel before returning to France in 1948. The artist died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France on March 28, 1985. Today, his works are held in the collections of The Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Tate Gallery in London, the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, and the Albertina in Vienna, among others.
> 
> The Tribe of Simeon, from The Twelve Maquettes of Stained Glass Windows for Jerusalem, has a remarkably cool palette compared to some of the other works within the same series. A ripe indigo color pervades the work, chilling the background and setting us above a sleeping town. Created in 1964, this image is part of a series of twelve lithographs which Chagall designed after the stained glass windows he created for the synagogue of the Hadassah-Hebrew Medical Center, located just outside of Jerusalem.
> 
> More reading:  
>  [Artnet bio](http://www.artnet.com/artists/marc-chagall/biography)  
>  [Actual piece on Masterworks Fine Art](https://www.masterworksfineart.com/artists/marc-chagall/lithograph/the-tribe-of-simeon-from-the-twelve-maquettes-of-stained-glass-windows-for-jerusalem-1964/id/W-5955#:~:text=Marc%20Chagall%20The%20Tribe%20of,works%20within%20the%20same%20series.&text=The%20work%20was%20engraved%20and,on%20watermarked%20Arches%20wove%20paper.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the art nerdery in this chapter! I was building up to this since their first date!!! Go back to chapters 11 and 16 if you don't believe me.
> 
> I wanted to leave it to the imagination but I think I should also just explain why Nile chose the pieces she chose, since I know a thing or two about art the way I know a thing or two about football.
> 
> Nile chose the Loïs Mailou Jones piece because the scenes of Southern France would be familiar to Booker, and it's painted by a Black woman.
> 
> Nile chose the Jerry Lynn piece because it's very contemporary and fitting of celebrity art collections. It's also got incredible colors. Booker mentioned enjoying the emotive use of colors, but not in ways that are too abstract.
> 
> Nile chose the Beauford Delaney piece because he's part of the Harlem Renaissance, and it was mentioned in an earlier chapter that Nile's MA in Art History dissertation is on the Harlem Renaissance. In addition, this piece is very French (Parisian) which is kinda cute for Booker.
> 
> Nile chose the Marc Chagall piece because Booker mentioned liking Marc Chagall, having been to the Musée National Marc Chagall in Nice on a school excursion. A lot of Chagall's art is about [how much he loves his wife](https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2016/may/27/marc-and-bella-chagall-the-flying-lovers-of-vitebsk-emma-rice), so it's very fitting for Booker, who is destined to be a wife guy.
> 
> In real life, the Beauford Delaney piece is actually on display at the Whitney Museum of Art in New York, so Nile wouldn't really have been able to buy it but shh, this is the imaginary world of fanfic. The other three pieces can be bought, and my amateur estimate of the total cost of these four art pieces is that Nile probably spent 60-70k total on these, which is above the "50k" total but well under the "50k per piece" threshold. God, I wish I had this kind of money.


	23. star of wonder, star of night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's midnight on Christmas day!

After dinner, Nile drives her family out for midnight mass at the church in town. There is an Anglican Church that holds services in English, and it is attended by a group of English-speaking expats.

Nile knows how much this means to her mother, and the experience is made even better by the warm welcome they receive and the beautiful marbled interiors of the church. In the Middle Ages, marble was reserved for religious use, and the nobility of the land would compete to construct the most sumptuous churches. This church has only been a little more than a hundred years old, but it pleases Nile’s mom to worship in a beautiful old church anyway.

By the time she gets home it’s past 1am, and her joints hurt so much that Nile wonders if she can even get to sleep. She tries to crawl into bed as quietly as she can, but it is not a successful effort, for Booker stirs and puts his arms around her anyway.

“Missed you,” he says sleepily, but he reaches out to massage her shoulders and her arms, which is nice, and helps to relieve the pain.

“Missed you too,” Nile replies, and then unconvincingly adds, “and we should go to sleep.”

“You’re not sleeping. Why don’t you tell me what you got up to with your mom and brother the past week?” Booker nuzzles her in the neck, and it feels really good. In return, Nile runs her fingers through his straw-like dirty blond hair.

“There’s so much to tell you,” Nile begins, but that’s such a cop-out answer. “Okay okay, I’ll do one story for tonight. It’s about the Milan derby.”

“Oh, is this about how your mom turned into an AC Milan fan?” Booker plants a lazy kiss on her cheek.

Nile bursts out laughing at the memory. Since Booker’s agent got them inside an AC Milan sponsor box, her mother thought she had to root for the rossoneri. To make things worse, she somehow assumed Milan midfielder Havertz was Nile’s love interest, and wholeheartedly booed whenever Booker got in Havertz’s way.

It was only when Booker scored that Antoine and Nile realized what was going on, by which time it was too late—their mom had decided AC Milan was her team, and was even more disappointed to learn that Havertz is not Nile’s boyfriend. “But he’s the cuter one,” she protested.

That’s not the story though. Nile already told Booker about that, after the match. The story is that while she was in the VIP box, Nile was being flirted with, for there was a mysterious suitor who bombarded her with free drinks for the night, all while Antoine was made to pay for his drinks. When the match ended, a waiter was dispatched to hand Nile a printed card containing an invite to an afterparty.

“Sounds fun,” Booker comments idly, wrapping his arms and legs around Nile. “Did you go?”

“No! And you know why?” Nile begins laughing out of sheer ridiculousness.

“Mmm…why?” Booker seems more preoccupied with running his hands down Nile’s body at this point.

“So—I asked the waiter who sent the card—and the waiter discreetly pointed to this other VIP box—and out of curiosity—hahaha—I just had to walk by it, and who should I see? Hurhurhur.”

“Mmm...no idea. Can’t imagine who.”

Nile is laughing so much she has tears in her eyes at this point. “So I’m walking by, pretending to mind my own business, and I accidentally make eye contact with this man in that VIP box, and then it dawns on me he must have been the sender—and I’ve never felt more mortified in my life.”

“Who is it?” Booker says with mild annoyance, perhaps at the notion of a rival. “You keep dragging it out.”

“ _Silvio Berlusconi,_ ” Nile barely finishes saying, before choking on her laughter once more.

Just hearing the name is enough to make Booker spring upright in bed. “What the fuck?” he practically spits, and he is so vexed he flings the covers off and paces around the room, butt naked.

“I know, I know...I couldn’t even tell if he invited me because he knew who I was, or...you know…”

“Eurgh! Ugh ugh ugh!” Booker squawks, flailing his hands. “What the hell? No! Noooo! Not you!”

“I know,” Nile replies, cocooning herself with all of the duvet now that Booker is out of the bed. “Isn’t that so funny?”

“I’m so grossed out. Eurgh, eurgh! I’m so grossed out I can’t sleep,” Booker wails, seemingly agonized. Finally, he plops down at the bottom corner of the bed, scruffing his hair in frustration.

“Oops sorry babe, I’ve just been dying to tell you this one in person,” Nile drops her reply a little too cheerfully, and decides to prod her boyfriend’s naked butt with her foot for the heck of it.

“Are you saying I have to compete with Berlusconi for your affections now?” Booker throws his chin to rest dejectedly on one hand, and—Nile has to admit this—the Guardian was right in comparing him to the Thinker.

“Yes hmm, it’s a pretty close call. You know how much I love those bunga bungas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A humorous interlude! If you don't know about Silvio Berlusconi, he is basically a lot like Tr*mp. He also used to own AC Milan, which is why I COULD NOT place the old guard in that team.
> 
> *bunga-bunga = term for Berlusconi's sex parties, and apparently Gaddafi was the inspiration *shudder* The term has basically evolved into some sort of punchline/cultural touchstone. If you say bunga-bunga to any Italian/European/world news aficionado of a certain age range I'm pretty sure they will start laughing. I guess it's something like covfefe.
> 
> AO3 user specialisthalstead has [written a smutty continuation of this chapter, Nightly Wonders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954776/chapters/68463620), please read it and give them love!!!


	24. what are you doing new year's eve?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight  
>  When it's exactly 12 o'clock, midnight  
> Welcoming in the New Year, New Year's Eve_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to Ella Fitzgerald's [What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFdfzNMV52Q) if you want a soundtrack to this chapter

The period from Christmas to New Year is the least lonely Booker has felt in years, even though he’s cooped up with the same three people the whole time—Nile, her mother, and her brother, and together they do a whole lot of nothing.

Booker wakes up to find Mrs Freeman watching reruns of Antiques Roadshow, and it is then Booker understands where Nile gets it from. By ‘it’ Booker means this intense sense of nerdery, this need to mine the history of every single thing for the tiniest nuggets of value, staunchly refusing to let minor details be forgotten.

Mrs Freeman makes him a cup of warm eggnog, perfectly garnished with a stick of cinnamon and grated nutmeg. She makes a portion for herself too, and Booker watches with admiration as she throws in a shot of brandy—9am on Christmas morning—into her mug. She raises the shotglass to ask if Booker wants some in his, and he chuckles and reluctantly declines. Not before his workout.

Antoine is the next to wake. His interest in cooking has been such a blessing to Booker—Antoine was considering enrolling in culinary school before he got the American football scholarship, and he happily takes charge of making Christmas lunch.

Never the morning person, Nile drags herself out of bed just in time for lunch. It’s Christmas, American style, with turkey, ham, the family-secret potato salad and pumpkin pie. Booker knows that every player cheats with food over the winter break, despite pleas from the training staff not to overindulge. It’s just impossible with temptation this delicious. To end it all off, they have the panettone Enzo made, paired with a small glass of vin santo.

It’s nice to have a break. They exchange gifts, random little things more for the fun of it than anything else. Booker gets a box set of premium playing cards, and they launch right into several rounds of Texas Hold’em poker. Mrs Freeman is disturbingly good at the game, her pile of chips growing as the rest of them capitulate to her unchallenged dominance. The young ones declare surrender to Mrs Freeman, and then to lighten the mood Booker proceeds to show off some of the card tricks he’s learned, some sleight of hand stuff. He learned it to impress girls back in the day, but it’s more often the guys (well, mostly teammates on the countless bus and plane rides to away games) who crow with amazement and ask Booker to share his magic secrets. As expected, neither Nile nor her mother care for card tricks, but Antoine wants to learn and so Booker obligingly imparts some skills.

On Boxing Day they go for a little hike around the mountains, an easy hike, but Booker still makes Nile use hiking poles to relieve her joints, and he walks behind the group to make sure everyone is okay. The hike goes well, and Mrs Freeman is surprisingly speedy for her age. After the hike they take a boat out into the lake to relax, and Booker realizes this is what la dolce vita feels like.

In the afternoon they watch the Premier League games, one of few leagues with games over this period. In years past this would have been Booker’s busiest time of the year, with three games in a week and no time for anyone. There’s been an ongoing battle with the Serie A bigwigs over whether to make them play over Christmas, but Booker is glad that there are enough Italians around who consider it so sacrosanct that the idea never persists for too long.

The day after Boxing Day Booker calls his mom and sister Danielle, and introduces them to Nile and her family. Danielle shows off her little baby Gabriel, now five months old and very good natured, and everyone coos over how cute he is.

At some point during her stay Mrs Freeman tells Booker that his garden is quite sadly neglected, and Booker has to agree. Unfortunately, he has no idea about plants and can’t be bothered to do anything with them—plus he’s always kicking a ball about with Yusuf when he comes over, which explains the patchy grass.

New Year’s Eve arrives and they stay up to midnight together for the countdown. They put on music and they shimmy and dance in the living room to tunes from 1960 to the present day. Booker gets to slow dance with Nile, swaying in time to the wistful, romantic tunes of Ella Fitzgerald and her unmistakable voice. Right as the clock strikes midnight, he kisses Nile square on the lips and she kisses back, and Antoine yells "geez get a room" and Booker likes how it makes 2027 a good year already.

The transfer window opens on the 2nd of January and one of the first pieces of news is €60 million from Internazionale, for 19 year old Romeo Lykon of Bayer Leverkusen. Nile practically screams at her phone in triumph on seeing this. “I knew it! Pay up! Pay up!” she yells, thumping the table for emphasis.

Mrs Freeman gives Booker a pitying look. “I don’t know what this is about, but sounds like you really lost here.”

“Yeah…” Booker replies, exaggerating his disappointment for extra sympathy. “Nile said the boss would splash big on a striker but I thought we’ve been doing fine with Musa and Verbeek. I was hoping for more midfield support.”

“Nile’s always right,” Antoine says resignedly. “I have learned my life lessons.”

“Oh this is so exciting,” Nile gushes on, oblivious to the rest of them. “Wow. That’s a lot for a very young player. It’s not a club record but surely, he’s number two or three?” Nile hastily taps away at her phone to verify her statement. “Yep he’s number two, just after Lukaku. Haha, their names are kinda similar, don’t you think? How uncanny. Imagine if he’s anything like Lukaku...or even better. Wow. Wow wow wow.”

“So you do agree with the critics that our strikers suck?” Booker rubs his nose and sniffs pointedly. Booker lives to serve strikers, so insulting Musa and Verbeek feels very personal to him. They do great in training, and they spend a lot of time working on positioning. It’s just missing that little bit of magic maybe? They do seem to have quite bad luck in front of goal. It’s luck, right? The skills are clearly there. Hmm...

“It’s not a big secret,” Nile says. “The stats clearly show that you guys are well under your expected goals…”

“Guys, guys, timeout,” Antoine interrupts, waving his hands frantically in the air.

“It’s okay,” Nile hurriedly dismisses. “We do this all the time. Anyway, as I was saying, you’re well under your expected goals because they just don’t have that killer instinct, you get what I mean? To be a forward, you need to be a little bit selfish. You kind of need that cocky asshole who thinks, you know what, I’m better than everyone else and I’m gonna steal the moment of glory.”

“She’s talking about herself,” Antoine whispers conspiratorially to Booker, and Booker responds with a silent nod.

“If only we could sign you, Nile Freeman,” Booker says, taking a sip of eggnog, spiked with a generous shot of brandy this time. “I could make the crappiest passes and you would still find a way to score. And it would be extra romantic when I leap into your arms to celebrate....”

Nile closes her eyes, seething in mock frustration. This is the only way Booker can end their arguments, and it works every time—just say something so outrageous it will sweep her off her feet. It’s underhanded, but all is fair in love and football.

“I mean it,” Booker says, a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Football should be a mixed-gender game. I just know you’ll score from every pass I feed you.”

Nile simply doesn’t say anything else, refusing to concede, but this match is over.

The day after, Booker bids goodbye to Mrs Freeman and Antoine, and Nile will drive her family to the airport. After dropping them off, Nile is headed back to her apartment—they’re not living together, although Booker desperately wishes the day would come. Nile getting a car had been their compromise, an introductory step in enticing Nile to the hilly shores of Lake Como. The process of getting a car resulted in so many arguments that Booker thought their relationship would never get off the ground. First Nile refused to let him buy her a car, and then Booker convinced her they should at least split the cost, and when she finally agreed to that, he then tried to persuade her that the split should be based on a proportion of income, and then Nile disagreed again. Given that equation Nile would have to come up with something like just €500 for her share, which she found extremely insulting, and then they just kept going back and forth on the same points. Anyway, Nile now has a modest electric hatchback for which she paid ⅓ of the price, a compromise between her conscience and Booker’s insatiable urge to give her everything under the sun.

He doesn’t tell Nile this, but after she pulls out of the driveway and out of sight, Booker curls up on her side of the bed and cries to himself, burying his face in her pillow. He remains there, pathetically sobbing for the rest of the morning, until his phone chimes with the reminder that it is time to head out of the house and back to the training grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO LYKON 😍
> 
> Lukaku = Romelo Lukaku, Congolese Belgian striker who currently plays for Inter. Lukaku's made me SO MANY fantasy football points in his PL years so I love him
> 
> Lykon is named Romeo, because it's a pun on him being a Roman citizen. Calling him Roman Lykon is a bit too on the nose, since he's will be African, and not Roman in this fic. Stay tuned for more Lykon! The gang is assembled!!


	25. plus ça change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! It's 2027 and there is so much going on around Nile.

Nile returns to her apartment in Milan and is quickly swallowed up by a flurry of social invitations from her coworkers. They have an official team lunch to celebrate the new year, which is full of yelling and heated debates as they refresh their news feeds for the latest in transfer news. Inter Milan sells Verbeek, since Lykon is coming in. Through one of her coworkers, Nile is approached by the Guardian with an offer to write a column on the Serie A every weekend, which she takes up. A group of the former players at work organize a charity event, and at the charity event Nile is introduced to an even wider circle of people. Some of these men, because there are so many _men_ at these things—private equity partners, diplomats, or men who simply bear names right out of history books—show a more than platonic interest in Nile, which is both flattering and unnerving at the same time.

Sonya, the gallerist who is Olga’s friend, invites Nile to an opening party for a show at her gallery, and the crowd here is of the sort Nile is a little more comfortable with. Sonya even introduces her to the DJ, a recent American transplant from Baltimore, who is really, really cool. The DJ seems kind of into her too, but the problem is—Sonya is three months out of date with her information, and Nile isn’t exactly single anymore. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be friends—and who knows where things will end with Booker anyway.

Olga invites Nile for a catch-up lunch, and she doesn’t actually approve of Nile introducing her family to Booker so early, when Nile tells her how her holidays went. “You’ve only been dating three months, and have you two actually talked about going exclusive yet? No? I know I told you Timo reports that Booker doesn’t seem to do anything else after training except hang out with Yusuf, but what I think is that if you're important enough to him the boys might have heard something about it at least,” Olga says.

“But why would he?” Nile protests. “Maybe he respects me enough not to make me locker room talk?”

“Okay, you have a point,” Olga relents, “but—this is just my opinion and you don’t have to take it—but it’s really not a good idea to go too fast.”

“You married Timofei at the age of 20, Olga!” Now that Nile’s said it, it might have been a bit of a low blow from her.

“We were dating from the age of 16!” Olga counters. “But I dropped out of university to move around Europe with this man, and to this day I don’t know if it was the right move.”

“You did get your degree in the end, didn’t you?”

“It’s a different degree. I was studying Economics when Timo asked me to move to Croatia with him. I stopped studying for a while, and I just ended up pregnant because I had no friends and nothing else to do. It took me so many years after that to go back to studying, and then it was so hard. I felt so much like I let my younger self down. I used to be an A student, Nile, but does anyone care about that now? I barely passed my hospitality degree,” Olga says, all worked up. “You—you’re young and successful, and you have the potential to build your own legacy. That’s what I care about for you, Nile.”

“Oh Olga,” Nile replies. Her heart breaks for her friend, and she pulls Olga into a hug. “You are the most wonderful person I’ve met in Milan, and I’m grateful you decided to approach me that day.”

Olga returns the hug. “Sorry if I’m being overdramatic or silly.”

“No, Olga, your points are valid. I hear what you’re saying, but I think it’s just different for me—I value my family a lot, and it’s important to me that they know what’s going on in my life. I guess that’s why I wanted them to meet Booker in a real kind of way.”

“That’s good to hear, Nile. Do you know what they think of him?”

“My brother thinks he’s really cool. My mom doesn’t seem entirely convinced.”

“You know I’m probably with your mom.”

“Oh I know, Olga,” Nile laughs. “I’m going to tell my mom about this, and I’m pretty sure she’ll love you for saying what you said to me. Sometimes, you need the friends who can keep you on the ground. And you know what, you’re one of the few people whom I trust to feel about things the way I do.”

Olga smiles, and they exchange another hug.

“Seriously though, Olga,” Nile begins to say. “Please feel free to tell me anything that’s bothering you—you said you regret dropping out of university? Why? Throw aside what you think the correct answer would be. If you could redo your life, what would you change?”

“Oh Nile, I wish I had an answer to this question. Sometimes I wish I could say I did more in my life for myself, but where I am now—I am actually very grateful to have my husband, and we have enough money—and it’s not like I have some stupid cliched answer like ‘I will not change anything in my life’. I know where I was, back in university, and I didn’t have many options either. I might have been able to find work in the city with my degree, but I wouldn’t have been able to move to so many countries, live in beautiful places. If you want the ‘incorrect’ truth, Nile—sometimes I look at my children and I wonder if the reason why I had them is because I know I am at my limit of what I can achieve in my life, but my children can do better. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t need them to do better, but just knowing they have better opportunities makes me want to do better for them as well. Is it wrong to say this? I think it’s very human.”

“It is very human,” Nile agrees, but Olga’s words have opened up a can of worms. What does Nile want, out of her life? What is her legacy?


	26. pain and glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter to parts of Nile's time in Barcelona!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> -chronic illness/diagnosis of chronic illness  
> -chronic pain, medical treatments/mention of chemotherapy  
> -depression and intrusive thoughts
> 
> Ciutat Esportiva = FC Barcelona's training grounds
> 
> blaugranes = blue and reds, nickname for FC Barcelona  
> las blancas = the whites (feminine version), nickname for the Real Madrid women's team

_Hamraoui passes to Gunnarsdóttir, Gunnasdóttir kicks it to Dembele—beautiful one-touch football. It’s total dominance from the blaugranes in possession, but can they convert this to goals? No, Las Blancas have held up well in defense so far, holding an impenetrable line. Dembele, Gunnasdóttir, Freeman—Diaz coming in for the tackle, but oh, Freeman just flicks it right over Diaz and continues the run—that is beautiful, and Navarro is too far from goal now—there is a break and Freeman is just going for it, another feign, past Exteberri, and the goal is wide open. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL, GOAL GOAL GOAL! It’s another sensational hit from La Bomba, in a sensational match! The explosive Nile Freeman bamboozles two defenders and leaves the goalkeeper behind in her wake—Etxeberri kicks the goalpost in frustration._

The match ends 2-0. After Nile’s first goal, the defense lost morale and started to get looser and looser—it became easier to pass through them and Dembele fed Nile a perfect cross that she sent into the top corner.

The next day is the day Nile’s left ankle starts to swell. She reports to work early to consult the medical team, and they conduct some examinations and put her on a treatment plan.

It takes a few days but the swelling goes down and Nile takes a bunch of NSAIDS and is cleared to play.

The swelling comes back, and they conduct further investigations. This is the club with the best MRI machine in the world, partnering with some of the biggest institutions to run an ever increasing array of medical studies. There are no fractures, but Nile’s did receive a bad kick to the ankles in the last match, against Sevilla. They’ll need time to figure it out, but there’s hardly anywhere else in the world Nile will find better medical care.

The swelling gets worse, and Nile is ruled out of play for a couple of weeks. At the Ciutat Esportiva, Nile watches fit and healthy players train outside while she has to report to an indoor lab to do a low impact workout, hooked up to all sorts of monitors, overseen by medical staff. De La Fuente, another American, but on the men’s team, is also injured and they strike up a chat in between treatments.

And then one day Nile wakes up with the same pain in her right ankle, and she can’t get out of bed. When she calls in to work to tell them, the medical staff react with alarm and send a team to pick her up.

Nile is put through a series of tests, but the medical staff warn her that the tests may not be conclusive—they have a hunch, because they’ve seen this before, and they really hope it’s not the case.

There is an unbearable wait across the next few days, and then finally—the test results come in. Nile has an elevated erythrocyte sedimentation rate, indicating the presence of an inflammatory process in the body.

 _What does that mean?_ Nile asks. And she’s lucky, because they have the best doctors, not just in terms of musculoskeletal research but doctors who have developed the emotional skills to deliver tough messages to some of the most coddled egos on the planet.

They’ll have to keep testing her, but the doctor’s hunch is rheumatoid arthritis.

“Arthritis?” Nile asks. “Isn’t that for old people?”

“Not just for old people, and it’s a real bitch of a condition,” the doctor replies, and then she explains the condition further to Nile.

Women get it at rates three times higher than men. There is no cure. It’s going to be a lifetime of managing this disease.

Nile will go on a treatment plan that requires infusions every 4 to 8 weeks. The drugs may take 8 to 12 weeks to work. For normal people, they get steroids during the interim period to help cope with the inflammation, but Nile will have to try going without, due to doping regulations. They’ll keep Nile on permitted NSAIDs for as long as she can hold out. They’re going to apply for a Therapeutic Use Exemption for the steroids anyway, in case things get bad and they need to administer an emergency dose during competition.

The doctor reminds Nile that they need to talk about her future. With the ongoing medication, if Nile wants to get pregnant, she’ll have to stay off the meds for 6 months before attempting to conceive. RA is a progressive disease, likely to get worse over time, and at the end stage there will be bone erosion and loss of mobility. With early treatment, they can delay the eventual onset.

When the doctor says it, she’s effectively lowering Nile’s career six feet into the ground.

“You can still play,” the doctor reassures. “We will do our best for you. But I want to be realistic about this as well. When I say you can still play, I mean that we will need you to be honest with us about your condition, or you will only shorten your playing career. Optimistically we might be looking at one or two more seasons for you, tops, and after that—it is important that you start thinking what you want to do after that. The good news is that there are constant new breakthroughs in managing RA, so we will keep you posted if there are any promising developments.”

The infusion sessions take hours, sometimes up to six hours, and Nile is completely drained after. It takes her a whole day to recover from the fatigue of a session, so she loses at least two days each time she does this. The sessions take place next to an oncology clinic, where there are cancer patients receiving chemotherapy. It’s quite a jarring experience to sit with the cancer patients, since it makes Nile’s condition seem so trivial in comparison, and yet she is in so much constant pain that she wishes she could just snap out of existence. She doesn’t mean it in like, in a suicidal way, since that would hurt her family, she just thinks that if nothing existed at all, no pain and no glory, it seems a preferable state than the current one she is in. Each visit is a mixed bag as well, sometimes she gets weird stares from other patients, maybe because she’s young, or she’s Black, and sometimes she has nice, friendly chats because she stands out for those same reasons and the other patients remember her. These chats never last long though—neither party can sustain energy levels for anything more than a couple of lines. Sometimes she sees the same faces for a while, and then sometimes they simply disappear one day, without warning, and it terrifies Nile to think too much about where they went.

In her first few sessions, Nile had enough optimism to bring a book to read, but it soon becomes clear that she doesn’t even have the spoons for that. The thing about the early stages of this disease is that depression far overtakes any other symptom, and at the end of the day, Nile just stares blankly at the TV screen, tuned to a channel not of her choosing, too numb for anything else.

Truth be told, there is a lot of trash on Spanish TV. In her lowest period the soundtrack to her life is the blaring noise from episodes of Gandía Shore, the Spanish version of Jersey Shore, where a host of characters fight over the stupidest things. There is Fabián Cañizares, who slept with Roberta. Another housemate, Jennifer, who has a crush on Fabián, reveals that Roberta was a male at birth ( _Can we move beyond biological essentialism already?_ ) and there is a tearful confrontation between Fabián and Roberta that results in them sleeping together again. _Is Fabián surprisingly affirmative of trans people, or is he a mere chaser? Chasers are gross._ Fabián’s kind of greasy looking so Nile is inclined to believe the latter. And yet Nile continues to subject her eyes to this horrid spectacle because it demands nothing of the viewer, and in that moment she realizes she’s no better than these wretched people.

Maybe Nile is even worse off. If she can’t play football anymore, is she doomed to the fate of these countless C and D-list celebrities, making paid appearances on talk shows just to fund the next bill? And if Nile moves home to the US, who knows what her medical bills will look like? From what she hears, although medical costs have come down for the average American with Medicare For All, she will still face out-of-pocket costs far exceeding what she pays in Europe, combined with an uncertain income stream. What can Nile do outside of football? Moving back home would severely limit her career options. She pictures herself on a trashy Spanish talk show, being asked to reveal secrets from the Barça training ground. Nile has zero dirt on anyone, and she’ll just talk about how Thursday’s green juice is her favorite, or the unbelievable amounts of sour cherries they make them eat during a busy competition schedule (close to a 100, for the antioxidants). Yeah, this stuff isn’t going to get her money. In fact, Barça might send their lawyers after Nile to get her to stop divulging these performance secrets where other clubs can benefit. So much for the dream of a side hustle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that Nile's player nickname being La Bomba is super sexy???
> 
> \+ I am very sorry that America has exported Jersey Shore to other countries. Gandia Shore is real...I guess between 2020 to 2026 they did a revival...
> 
> Also if I got any of the medical stuff wrong please correct me! It's really not my field so any help is appreciated.


	27. all of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick run-down of the month of January from Booker's POV!

With Lykon’s arrival, Booker has to vacate his spot in between the captain and Yusuf, which is reserved for the newbie. Boselli, who sits to the left of Yusuf, kindly moves over to Ulatov’s right, giving Booker the space next to his best friend at the club.

They take Lykon out to dinner, and Lykon has to do his initiation song. He chooses to sing John Legend’s All Of Me, and hearing that song does things to Booker. It winds him up from the insides, a gut-twisting kind of hurt. It is, simply put, the manifestation of his feelings for Nile set to a piano-suffused melody just three and a half minutes long.

They must all be softies, because Lykon’s voice is incredible and all these blokes at the table have tears in their eyes. The fact that someone can sing of love and that lovers everywhere hear themselves in the echo—it brings the table to applause. And then there is the moment when everyone joins in at the chorus, because come on, everyone knows the lyrics.

After the rousing chorus ends, Yusuf reaches for his glass of water, and love is present in the barely noticeable brush of his little finger against the captain’s hand. Love is present in the captain with his gaze still fixed on Lykon but with the smallest curl of a smile tugging at his lips.

Even though Booker saw Nile this morning and he will see her again the next day, he just misses her so much right now.

At the training center, Lykon is frighteningly young, and so springy. He moves around like an energizer bunny, and watching him makes Booker feel tired sometimes. Okay, so maybe this is why Booker went down the road of being a midfielder—he would much rather get the ball to work for him through perfectly placed passes, than to run for the ball.

Even in training groups, Lykon is completely unfazed by Nichi or Yusuf, which bodes well since they really are one of the most impenetrable partnerships on the field.

With January, the cup competitions heat up. The Round of 16 begins for the seeded teams ranked 1-8 on the previous season’s league standings. Lykon is fielded against Serie B club Chievo, and scores on his debut.

In the league, leaders AC Milan have their revenge in the second of the Milanese derbies, beating Inter 2-1, and Inter slip to third place on the table, behind Napoli.

It’s a tough month, full of confrontational talks. The boss chews the defense out, and then she drags the midfielders into it too—they must communicate, communicate, communicate! The boss is pushing the team really hard, making them do double-duties in matches. To confuse the opposing teams, the boss wants them to be able to make seamless positional switches, but this plan needs time for the players to click. Their individual brains need to form new neural bridges, and the team as a whole needs to build that psychological connection, so that they are not leaving embarrassing gaps for their opponents to exploit.


	28. conversations in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected Valentine's surprise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primera División = Primera División de la Liga de Fútbol Femenino, the top-flight women's league in Spain

It’s February, and there’s an away game for Valentine’s so they decide to celebrate early. Nile insists that she doesn’t want anything big, since they’re both so busy with work at this time of the year. Instead, she simply says “just good sex will do” with that infectious laugh of hers, and Booker obliges, thinking, _this is why I love you_. Thanks to the great sex he’s now kind of sleepy but Nile is tossing and turning about, so Booker wonders if he should say anything to her.

Nile speaks up first anyway. “Books? Seba? Sebi?” she whispers, in an ingratiatingly cutesy manner. That’s not typical of her at all. “Are you asleep?”

“You have activated sleeptalking mode,” Booker replies in a monotone robotic voice.

Nile giggles, and then pokes him in the ribs, which is a known tactic to infuriate Booker.

“Ah, don’t,” Booker yelps in response, curling into a ball on the side that was poked, to protect himself.

“Teeheehee,” Nile goes, and then she laughs to herself again. She has the prettiest laugh on earth, and this one sounds like the scattering of fairy dust in the magical wind.

“Wassup,” Booker says parsimoniously, since Nile clearly has something on her mind.

“I was just thinking,” Nile begins, her opener to all the weird and wondrous thoughts that go on in her mind.

“Thinking is good, it’s a sign you’re alive,” Booker responds.

At this, Booker receives a warning nudge his side, from Nile’s knee. He decides that should retaliate by running his hands over Nile’s knee and up her inner thigh…

“Anyway I was just wondering if you ever thought about what you wanted in life?”

“Mmm, _you_.” Booker fires back, all nice and confident.

“No, I mean like, the deeper things. Like a sense of purpose. Like what drives you.”

“I try not to think about that stuff because it hurts my brain.”

“Okayy,” Nile remarks, seemingly unimpressed. “But really though?”

It _is_ hurting Booker’s brain to think of something at this point. “I’m okay drifting along until someone picks me up...someone like _you_.”

“Hm,” Nile remarks curtly, seemingly dissatisfied with his answer.

“Well, what do you want in life, my love?”

“Ah...see, I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and like, actually I’ve already achieved a lot of what I wanted in life…”

“Very true, very true. I can’t believe that a World Cup winner, two-time Olympics gold medalist and two-time FIFA best player winner cares about me.”

“You forgot to add five-time Primera División and one-time Champions League…”

“What about the Copa de la Reinas?”

“It’s Copas de la Reina,” Nile gently corrects.

“Right. Yes.”

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what I want in life, and like, I think I have some answers, but it’s also really stupid.”

“I don’t think anything you do can be considered stupid,” Booker supplies earnestly.

“Oh no I’ve definitely done a lot of stupid things in my life,” Nile says with utmost certainty.

“Like going out with me?” Booker can’t help but ask, tongue in cheek.

“Yes! Yes that’s number one on the list, if you must know.”

“I am very honored,” Booker says, worming his way under the covers so that he is as close to Nile as he can get.

“It’s really stupid though, what I’m thinking. Promise me you won’t laugh,” Nile says, pressing her forehead to his, so that she is staring right into Booker’s eyes.

“I’ll try,” Booker replies, grinning.

“Okay, haha ha ha, okay, I think I really want kids,” Nile says, and then bites her lower lip out of excitement.

 _Uh_ , Booker thinks, and he reflexively wants to roll off the bed and freak out. Instead, he somehow finds the wits to ask, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“I always wanted kids! They were always part of a vision of my future. My first girlfriend and I dreamed of having, like, a barn full of kids. We would be the biggest, gayest family.”

Is ‘barn’ a good description for children? Booker wonders. It sounds like a vaguely inappropriate comparison, like Old MacDonald and his farm.

“I mean, we thought we would mostly adopt, and then maybe just have a few of our own, but obviously, our relationship didn’t work out in the end, but what’s worse was when I started to read up on the adoption process, and it’s actually very dark—it’s a for-profit industry that facilitates the abduction of children from parents who do want them. Did you know that even today they still can’t reunite all the children lost from ICE? And ICE was abolished like five years ago. And these adoption agencies are extremely predatory to single moms as well—first they lobby against abortion, then they tell these single moms that they won’t be able to cope with the child and it’s in her best interest to give up the baby.”

Wow, okay, Nile has clearly done her homework, which impresses Booker but also just makes him want to freak out all the more.

“And then like, when I got my scholarship to play soccer for UCSC, like, I just didn’t have the luxury to think about kids anymore. It was something I just pushed off to the vague, distant future, but you know what? The future is here! I can’t play anymore. I just realized I can start thinking about kids again!”

“Are you implying that I am...a...good...sperm...donor?” Booker stumbles over the words, feeling his balls shrivel up as he does so.

“Oh—Oh wait no, no sorry babe! I didn’t mean it like that! I guess I...didn’t really consider how you might react. I was just, kind of, talking about myself.”

“It’s okay, let’s just hear your side for now,” Booker says, biting his tongue.

“Right, no, I’m so sorry. I mean, wow, okay what was I thinking. Wow. It. Well okay look, to be clear, if I want kids I need to go off my meds for six months. Also, I’ll have to get out my IUD, and that’s probably more than six months to normal too. It’s definitely going to be a long process.”

Nile was probably explaining all this to express that she’s not going to spontaneously get pregnant to ease Booker’s anxiety, but hearing this makes him feel so much worse, actually.

“That sounds so painful, why would anyone want to do that?” Booker tries to argue. “I mean, I have to say I just can’t stand the idea of you in pain. Why are you multiplying your pain with all these...painful sounding things?”

“It’s fine, right? Because it’s me, it’s my body. If I want it, I can do it.”

Okay, Booker can’t argue against that, but damn if it doesn’t make him feel so useless as a person without a uterus. Hm, does that mean he would quite happily have Nile’s babies if he had a uterus? What an interesting train of thought. Booker imagines stuffing a football up his jersey and saying, “Babes, call the midwife, I think my water just broke…”

Back to reality. Nile is so. fucking. stubborn. sometimes. “Why, Nile? What if you try but it is not successful and you just hurt yourself more?” Booker asks.

“I—,” Nile protests. “It’s the only thing I know. All my life I’ve paid with my body for the sport I love and it worked, didn’t it? I won everything that was possible for me to win.”

 _And retired too young at the age of 25_ , Booker wants to argue, but he answers his own question. The kind of person that retires at 25 is either the person who’s won everything, or the kind of person who can’t go on anymore. Nile is both.

Booker has no idea what to say, and Nile picks up on his silence.

“Anyway, I’m so sorry babe, I’m guessing from your reaction you’re not on board with the idea of children in the future?”

Uh, Booker thinks, and he doesn’t know how to say it—his brain is fighting so hard to put a blank on his thoughts right now. His brain has always done that for him, it’s how he keeps on going with life.

_I would be the worst person to ask. I would be the worst. I would be the worst because._

_Because._

Booker is just frozen there in bed, trying not to look at Nile, curled up on himself.

“Oh, Book, I’m so sorry,” Nile says, folding him into a hug and kissing him on the forehead. “We can forget this conversation ever happened.”

No. No. No. Something in Booker’s brain rages. That’s not the answer he wants to give to Nile. It’s something else. You have to tell her, another voice urges. It’s the only way you can keep her. _Tell her._

“I—I just don’t know what a good family looks like,” Booker whispers into the cradle of Nile’s arms. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abolish ICE!!!! Allow me a moment to highlight [the dark side of the adoption industry in the US and its links to missing children](https://www.nbcnews.com/news/latino/deported-parents-may-lose-kids-adoption-investigation-finds-n918261)


	29. disaster gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ever made a terrible mistake you can’t shake off?” 
> 
> Yusuf is a disaster gay; he confides a secret in Booker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KNVB = Royal Dutch Football Association
> 
> OM = Olympique de Marseille, Booker's first club
> 
> FIFA country eligibility rules = the exact rules are more specific, but you can play for any country you have citizenship of + going back 2 generations (e.g. your own, your biological parents' citizenships and your grandparents' citizenships)

There is another loss, to Fiorentina, and the pundits talk about Andy’s new year slump and whether her gamble on bolstering the attack is hurting the defense. The defense has been shabbier than their usual standards—Andy’s push for high-attacking play requires intensive formation rigor, and playing Yusuf down the touchlines means putting in younger players to partner with Nichi. It’s a lot of rewiring that the defense is working with, and Booker looks at them with some sympathy when they have to put in extra sessions just to practice formations.

It’ll be good for the team though, that’s what everyone understands. Booker can see from the boss’s perspective. There was an overreliance on Yusuf and Nichi which leaves the backline with little positional flexibility. For high pressure football, especially on the counterattack, the boss wants them to be able to change shape quickly. It’s a lot of work for Yusuf and Nichi to do, imparting their wisdom to the youngsters who are being pushed into the first team to deepen the squad.

Though it’s not so frequent now, Yusuf still comes over to Booker’s place once in a while to let off steam, and sometimes they play Super Smash Bros to do just that. It’s the kind of game where you don’t have to do too much but mash buttons and you can still get pretty far. Booker likes to play as Kirby while Yusuf plays as Bowser.

They’re mashing away at the buttons, and then Booker can sense it—they’re just really not into playing this at the moment, but they didn’t feel like playing any other games either.

“Hey bro this isn’t working for me. How about a round of ping pong?”

“Yeah,” Yusuf replies listlessly, and obliges Booker with a few rounds but Yusuf is losing uncharacteristically.

“Hey um, is it me or are you feeling kinda down?” Booker shoots at Yusuf. “Anything you wanna tell me? Anything you can tell me?”

Yusuf squints at Booker, and he shrugs in response. Okay, if Booker’s got it wrong he’ll just let it go. Again he serves the ping pong ball to Yusuf, hitting it pretty flat, an easy serve for Yusuf to return.

Yusuf misses the ball entirely. There is a sharp intake of breath from him, which is then released in a sigh. “You ever made a terrible mistake you can’t shake off?” he asks.

“What kind of terrible mistake are you talking about?” Booker asks.

“Argh,” Yusuf grunts, dropping the ping pong paddle onto the table and then kicking the nearby wall out of frustration. “Oh ow, ow motherfucking OW,” he wails, as if he didn’t anticipate that kicking a concrete wall would hurt.

“Hey uh, I don’t wanna have to explain to Andy if you can’t play for weeks,” Booker cuts in, putting a hand on Yusuf’s shoulder with a sympathetic squeeze to guide him out of the room. “Let’s grab a beer and talk it out on the pool deck.”

The next game is two days away, one beer tonight won’t hurt, Booker convinces himself.

The pool deck is a nice space for thinking, with views opening into the lake that help to expand your mind. Yusuf and Booker take side by side chairs, and they clink bottles and then relax into their deck chairs, so that they are looking out into the same vista and are free of anything as confrontational as eye contact.

“What dumb shit did you get yourself into huh?” Booker prompts.

“It’s...it’s an ex,” Yusuf reveals, and Booker feels like he should have placed a bet on the nature of the problem. It’s such a classic baller problem that it’s pretty much a stereotype. What are the variants on the problem of the ex that does not go away? Babydaddy accusations?

“What, does the ex want money?” Booker ventures.

“Yeah, yeah...pretty much.” Yusuf sounds hesitant.

“You know if it’s not too much money it’s always easier to just pay them off right?” Booker says, as if he has any experience. He does not.

“Yeah, I know—what do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve created a monster doing so,” comes Yusuf’s reply.

 _Holy shit._ “How bad is it?” Booker asks.

Yusuf sighs, and Booker can hear him take another swig from the bottle.

“So—don’t judge me, but you know, once in a while I get an email saying, give me some money or I’ll send these compromising photos to the gossip rags and you know, it’s stupid but I also don’t have the time to waste—I just pay up because it’s actually not a lot each time.”

“Does Nichi know?”

“No, fuck, I would die if he found out. And so I just keep coughing up the cash,” Yusuf explains.

“Understandable,” Booker draws out. “I would do that too,” he adds, just to reassure his friend, although Booker has never done anything like that, just to be clear. See—if you were to ask Booker, this is why he aims really, really high when he tries to date someone. To be honest he’s always surprised that the women he’s attempted to date even pay him any attention, because they’re truthfully leagues above him. Maybe that’s how male privilege works, Booker suddenly realizes. His ex was always accusing him of flexing the male privilege, but Booker always found it difficult to see where and how he was doing that. It was easier, if his ex just pointed it out to him when it happened—wait. Maybe that’s the problem.

_Oh._

“Yeah, so, the problem with this guy is that this time he wants to come out with a book,” Yusuf continues.

“Oh,” Booker says mindlessly. “It’s a guy?”

“Yeah? Of course it’s a guy,” Yusuf replies, bewildered. There is a pause, and then he adds, “I’ve only dated guys, Booker.”

“Right,” Booker says. “Noted on that. We’ve...we’ve never talked about this stuff in too much detail.”

“I’m a big flaming homo, Book,” Yusuf says. “Like, a disaster gay.”

“I don’t know about that,” Booker refutes. “I’ve always thought you were so cool. I wouldn’t say you’re a disaster. You’re like my hero. In a way.”

“Why? What have I done?”

 _Good point._ “I don’t know, you’re just so sweet and kind…”

“Maybe it’s all to hide how fucked up I feel inside,” Yusuf says, punctuating with a deep sigh.

Yusuf’s words take Booker by genuine surprise. “Wait, do you really? Do you really feel fucked up inside?” But Yusuf is—Booker had really placed Yusuf on a pedestal, huh.

“If I weren’t so fucked up I wouldn’t have all these problems, Book,” Yusuf sounds so beaten down.

“So...what’s this ex of yours like?”

“Um. Do you know anything about the Spanish Jersey Shore? Spanish Geordie Shore?”

“Nope, but it sounds trashy.”

“It’s very trashy. Anyway, this guy I dated, I dated him before he went on the show. So. In some ways it’s before he evolved into his new colors. Back then he was kind of, you know…”

“Interesting?” Booker supplies.

“Hot,” Yusuf corrects. “Hot. That’s all.”

“Can I see a picture?” Booker hesitantly asks.

“Uh, yeah, you know what, okay. You can google Fabián Cañizares.”

Booker obligingly enters the name in his phone, and then...what the fuck.

“What the fuck,” Booker says out loud so his friend can hear. “Is this your type of guy?” he asks, holding his phone up for Yusuf to see, a dizzying tessellation of gaudy image search results.

“He wasn’t so...douchey looking back then. He was more...sensitive looking,” Yusuf tries to justify himself.

“Like...Justin Bieber?” Booker asks, increasingly alarmed. “He just looks like emo Cristiano Ronaldo now.”

“Okay I wouldn’t say that but yeah, yeah he had the frosted tips.”

“Yusuf Al Kaysani you have the worst taste in men!” Booker exclaims, and it comes out way louder than he meant for it to be. He seems unable to keep his feelings under control.

“Book...please...I mean...that’s...that’s just how I am? I was what, twenty, twenty one when I dated this guy. I think my taste has improved since then.”

Some images of the younger Nicolò di Genova flash in Booker’s mind. When he was at OM he came up against Nichi in the Europa League once. That version of Nichi...let’s just say the current version is very subdued in comparison. Booker refrains from saying anything to avoid hurting his friend’s feelings even more.

“Okay wait, so what’s the story,” Booker prompts, scrolling through more pictures of this guy on his phone. There are photos in which he appears in a leopard print thong. If Booker squints, okay, maybe this guy has a nice butt, but he just exudes the sleaziest vibes. “This guy got your nudes?” Booker’s just making an assumption here.

“Yeah, and more…”

What does this Fabián guy have on Yusuf beyond nudes? Sex tapes? An image of Yusuf going down on this...greasy snake of a man flickers in Booker’s mind, and it’s so mortifying he wants to scrub his brain with bleach. “You are so fucked man, what the fuck. Why...why did you let him?” Booker doesn’t know why he said that. He knows it sounds kind of victim blamey, but also, he just doesn’t have a script for situations like these. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that to his friend. It’s too late.

“I—I didn’t think clearly, okay? I just didn’t think about my future at that point. I wasn’t doing well and thought I had no future in football. And he was very persuasive…”

“Wait, is he bi?” Booker interrupts, for he is now scrolling through the webpage search results on his phone. “There are all these clips of him sleeping with girls on the show.”

“Yeah he could be, I don’t know. I saw him exclusively, if it matters to you at all.”

“What a sleazebag!” Booker comments, fully judgmental, but at the same time he falls for some cheap clickbait, and he’s scrolling through some comments on Fabián’s sexuality. It turns out that there are some really homophobic and transphobic things being said, and Booker backs out of there feeling very guilty.

“Jeez thanks Booker, that’s some real emotional support from you.” Yusuf is probably side-eyeing him hard right now.

“Okay, well, anything I can do for you? Short of ordering a hit on this guy.” Booker finally turns off his phone. He’s seen too much today.

“Please do not,” Yusuf throws in a little too hurriedly.

“I was just joking,” Booker tries to explain, but inwardly he’s starting to question why Yusuf even felt the need for that addendum. Could it be that Yusuf heard about Booker’s brother? Booker tries to shake off the thought as much as he can.

“I’m holding out for now. I’m trying to get my lawyer to send cease-and-desists, but also like, I don’t really have grounds for defamation because it’s true, you know? So I can only go with nonconsensual disclosure, but by that point it might be too late. You know, I’m not even out to my parents, for fuck’s sake.”

“Wait—you’re not?” Booker asks. Somehow he thought Yusuf would be...although he has no idea why.

“They’re Muslim parents, Book. They’ve been bugging me to get married forever. They—they’ve just been led to believe I’m a playboy who can’t settle down and I change girlfriends every few months..”

“But...you’re...Dutch?” Booker offers weakly, as if it means anything. Don’t the Dutch happily wave their little rainbow flags?

“Oh yeah? Come on, you know I’m never going to be Dutch when it comes to issues like these right? Fuck!” Yusuf yells, sounding deeply agonized, and Booker thinks his friend has every right to feel this way. “Fucking fuck fuck!”

“Hey man, I’m so sorry,” Booker tries his best to offer sympathies.

“You know what’s worse, Book? I wanted to play for Tunisia, Book. I could have. They sent me the call-up the same time the KNVB did. I know my dad wanted me to play for them, especially after they almost won the Africa Cup of Nations. And you know why I didn’t, Book? It’s because of this. It’s because I’m a big fucking homo and I think I will get totally shut out of football if anything leaks. I don’t even know if I can count on the KNVB to protect me but I’m just hoping they would, you know? It hurts so much. Tunisia made it out of the group stage for the first time, the last World Cup. If I played for them we could have made it to the semis.”

Fuck, Booker thinks, feeling very powerless. He has no clue how to support his friend. This situation is such unfamiliar territory for him. Out of nowhere, he just starts prattling nonsense to fill the silence. “Did you...did you know my granddad is Moroccan? I could have played for them too…but I don’t think any of them know...” Booker blabbers, although he doesn’t really know why. He’s probably just putting his foot in his mouth.

“What?” Yusuf yells exasperatedly at him, lashing out in frustration. “How is that—how is that relevant?”

Okay, Booker definitely put his foot in his mouth. “I...it’s not supposed to be relevant,” Booker admits. “I’m sorry. That was...bad.”

“You...you...fucking white...piece of bread,” Yusuf retorts huffily, and then Yusuf is staring at him like he’s debating if the friendship is even worth it and Booker wants to yell, no, don’t go. I don’t know how to say that you’ve turned into my giant emotional crutch to cope with the insanity of this world and just. Fuck everything. _Fuck!_

Booker just starts laughing from the absurdity of it all, mussing up his hair with harried frustration. Everything is just so...overwhelmingly senseless. “I’m sorry,” he pleads again.

Yusuf throws a punch to Booker’s arm, and it hurts, it’s the kind of punch that’s intentionally more forceful than a playful touch to get the warning across, and then Yusuf bursts into laughter too, burying his face into crossed arms.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Yusuf yells, letting all his frustration out in one long breath, laughing and wiping tears from his eyes at the same time. “You? You with your blond hair and blue eyes? Playing for Morocco?”

“It’s...dirty blond,” Booker tries to correct, to no avail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a movie was made of this fanfic...Nicolò di Genova and Fabián Cañizares would be played by the same guy. We need a chameleon-like actor for this, someone who can transform so completely in each role...
> 
> Also FYI...Fabián Cañizares is named after former Big Brother contestant Fabio Cannizzaro...


	30. gandía shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker snoops on Fabián Cañizares.

Booker spends his idle time googling about this Fabián Cañizares character, and reading about his sordid affairs on Gandía Shore, and then when he tires of it he googles photos of the early Nicolò di Genova, and then, because it’s...just so much to take in, Booker has to google Yusuf’s classy Armani ad to cleanse his eyes. In the video for the Armani ad, Yusuf springs down staircases with the graceful gait of a leaping gazelle, and smolders at the viewer while leaning against bare, sun-soaked walls. How...how does this beautiful, elegant man, so solidly built and visually striking—how is it that his taste in men is so...disreputable?

The young Nicolò di Genova had a misspelled tattoo in English running down his forearm, “NO REGERTS” in a gothic script. On the other arm he had “GOD WILL JUDGE”, in the same font. These are now covered up with an intricately patterned full sleeve, which would seem to indicate that he does regret the initial tattoos. So much for the message. Yes, Booker is judging.

Nile accidentally catches Booker snooping on Fabián Cañizares one day, and starts going on about how she binged-watched that show during a bout of depression, which disturbs Booker in several aspects. Firstly, it alarms him that there are things out there that can defeat this capable, accomplished woman, the love of his love, the heart of his heart. The thought makes Booker want to suit up and fight monsters on her behalf, but these monsters live where Booker cannot touch. Secondly, Booker resolves never to google Fabián Cañizares anywhere near Nile again unless he wants to hear about his season 5 STD scare.

With Nile, things are getting bumpy. The truth is, hearing that she wants children, and that she thinks she should have them ASAP because of her medical condition, has a pretty traumatic effect on Booker. Booker spends way more time fixating on it than he should be, even if Nile never actually said that she wanted to have children with him. The boss notices that he’s distracted in training, and she sits him down and asks him if there’s anything he wants to talk about. 

There’s a whole lot Booker can’t tell the boss, so she sends him onward to the team psychologist. Booker did see a psychologist after his self-esteem crushing breakup with his first girlfriend, and it did help, so...okay yeah, maybe Booker is overdue for therapy again. Way overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO REGERTS!!!!!!!


	31. poudre d’escampette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker goes for his therapy session.

“Bonjour Sebastien, ça va?” the psychologist says, as soon as Booker opens the door. The unexpected French throws him off and he does a double take on the nameplate on the door.

Dr. VUONG Thi Quynh  
Psy.D, LMHC

“Ça va ça va,” Booker says hesitantly. “Doctor Vuong?”

“Ah, you prefer English? Call me Quynh,” the doctor says.

“It’s…I’m a different person in English versus French,” Booker tries to explain. Booker can’t talk about his feelings in French. It just feels so wrong.

“Yes, that’s a common phenomenon amongst multilinguals.”

“Are you French?” Booker can’t help but ask. This doesn’t bode well at all, oh no no no. Booker can’t deal with a French therapist.

“Yes, French and Vietnamese.”

“T’es de Paname?”

“Ouai.”

This is followed by dead silence as Booker stares at the doc. He can viscerally feel every part of his body clamming up. He’s hunched over, his hands are in between his legs, and he’s looking around the room like he’s looking for an escape.

This isn’t going to work, it just isn’t, his brain tells him. How the hell is he going to open up to this well-dressed well-educated Parisian lady who has her eyes trained on him, scanning him for clues, psychoanalyzing him before he’s even said a word?

“Mais laissons tomber,” Booker begins, standing up to leave the room. “Maybe another day.”

“I can schedule you with a different psychologist if you prefer,” Quynh says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Booker relents, although he’s already facing the door. He turns back to face Quynh and runs a hand through his hair. “Who else is there?”

“Please take a seat, I can introduce you to my colleagues. I take it you’ve never come around to this part of the building?”

“No, I’m new here.” Newish. Booker’s been here half a season. This is where the injured people go, and Booker has quite fortunately made it through unscathed so far.

Quynh pulls out the profiles of the other psychologists she knows—she works here on an exclusive retainer, but through her institute she has other colleagues who can see Booker. She tilts her monitor screen towards him and goes through their profiles, stating some of their specialty research areas.

At this moment Booker notices that slotted into the crevice of the top edge of her keyboard is a small Polaroid, containing a photo that seems to be of the gaffer, Quynh, and a dog.

He looks up at Quynh and accidentally makes eye contact.

“Ah,” Quynh says. “We’re married. That’s our Irish Setter Loulou.”

“You married the boss?” Booker repeats out of disbelief, even though Quynh just told him so.

“It’s not a secret, but we maintain strict professional boundaries. If it helps put you at ease, I am very much an adherent of professional confidentiality.”

“What’s it like being married to the boss?” Booker wonders out loud. Somehow the fact that the boss has a home life is really jarring to him. To Booker, bosses were like these figures of authority, meant to be feared and respected. It’s kinda weird to think that they go home after work to cuddle their dog and watch TV dramas with their family—Booker assumed they would go home and watch more football videos and dream up new tactical strategies.

“She's the same person you know. No BS, what you see is what you get.”

Booker did always admire that in the boss. “How did you meet?” he asks, curiosity piqued.

“The Sochi Olympics. She was playing in Russia then, and went to watch several events for fun.”

“Were you participating as an athlete?” Booker can’t help asking.

“Yes, freestyle skiing.”

“Is that the one where they—“ Booker gestures with his hands, wiggling them left and right, “—do this?”

“Yes, and with some aerial jumps.”

 _Oh shit_ , Booker thinks. That’s pretty cool. He’s gonna have to look up videos after the session. Does anyone else on the team know? Why does no one mention this?

“I do have one hour blocked out for you, Sebastien. If you want, I can show you some clips.”

“Isn’t that kind of wasting your time?” Booker asks reflexively.

“Hmm, I got the sense from our introduction that you checked out as soon as you walked in.”

“I did, sorry.”

“I don’t take it personally. It is important to find a therapist you can trust.”

Booker nods obligingly. Quynh doesn’t seem too bad after all. She shows him a few of her Sochi clips, and then Booker realizes that she’s actually an Olympic medalist, under the name Coraline Dufour-Pires. He then finds out that Quynh was adopted by white parents in France, but that she reverted to her birth name after reconnecting with her birth parents. What surprises Booker is that her adoptive parents were cool with it, but Quynh says she was in her thirties by that point and there wasn’t much they could object to. Booker is a bubbling pot of curiosity and he hopes that his questions aren’t offensive, but he wants to know if there’s anything she remembers from life before her adoption.

At this point, Quynh takes something out of her pocket, and places it in front of Booker. It’s his training ground access card lanyard, and—wait, did Booker drop it?

“I was a pretty good thief and pickpocket,” Quynh says, and if Booker’s not wrong, with no small measure of pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poudre d'escampette is a French term meaning "to run away", but I'm using it here for the reference to poudre/powder = type of snow in skiing terms 
> 
> escampette comes from escamper (to escape) which has Occitan origins, as a nod to Booker.
> 
> Quynh and Booker are two very anti-French French characters in this story...please see [this](https://victimhood.tumblr.com/post/636235400287059968/booker-quynh) and [this excellent pairing of text post by tumbler user jcksonmaine](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f61f9ddb3119d5a8f695c902c8d23a3a/61d55aa47634df5e-2c/s500x750/aa894b301ddf16d5b181e183b35604038c897430.png).
> 
> On a side note I would like to thank user iwaiko for the correction to Andy's surname. In Ukrainian, she should be Skifska. The fic has been updated to use this in all references to Andy's surname!
> 
> Please...also...look at [how beautifully red Irish Setters are](https://www.rover.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/irish-setter-featured-image.png)...the perfect dog for Quynh!!


	32. the seeing place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker continues therapy sessions with Quynh.

Booker ends up making appointments for subsequent sessions with Quynh. The thing is, and he kind of made himself clear to her as well—Booker isn’t actually looking for performance enhancement, or to work through any performance roadblocks.

Booker is simply, honestly, curious about her sense of identity. He just wants to know how she reconciles her place in the world with where she came from, and where does she feel her loyalties lie.

Working through these questions with Quynh, Booker uncovers that his curiosity about her is a projection of his uncertainty about his own sense of self. The amazing thing is that Booker doesn’t actually need to tell her much about himself at this point. Just going through the nature of his curiosity surfaces the identity conflict that Booker is struggling with, and Quynh provides him with the mental toolkit to reflect on his own time.

He doesn’t need to tell her about his abusive father, or his brother who’s in jail. He does tell her, on the other hand, about his anxieties coming from his relationship with Nile. He asks Quynh if she and Andy ever thought about having children, and Quynh says that Booker is her most demanding client, one who’s constantly putting her on the spot and needing to know more about her life. She explains that it’s actually natural for competitive athletes to constantly challenge authority, but the focus of the conversation is usually on the performance aspect— _who are you, what are your credentials, why should I believe you, what’s the evidence behind what you’re saying?_ These are questions Quynh can handle from a sports psychology aspect.

Booker’s coming from a different level, because he’s working through personal issues. It’s not unfamiliar to Quynh, who is a licensed mental health counselor, and athletes struggling with personal issues do tend to carry it to the field. That said, Booker’s on-pitch performances have been fine. Inter are third on the league table, but the top three teams are within five points of each other. Coppa Italia has been a breeze so far. In the Champions League, they beat PSG easily at home, though the away leg is yet to be played.

Quynh has to draw the line with Booker on certain questions. The topic of children will be one of those—they will have to center their discussion on Booker’s relational process to the concept of family, familial obligation, children. Quynh would prefer to leave out her personal history on this. It’s fine with Booker, and he learns that this is how people set boundaries. He’s been pretty bad at it his whole life, actually. He usually let his ex-girlfriends set the boundaries for him, and it ties into his attachment issues, and how he often lets others define his sense of self.

Since the method works for Booker they can do an ontological exploration of the meaning of family. Quynh sends him academic papers on sociological theories of family and Booker dutifully goes through the readings. Booker comes to the realization that the communities he grew up in have always had an intuition of what these theories articulate even if none of them have had the education to name it, and Quynh tells him that’s what lived experience is. There are some concepts he has to ask Quynh for help on, but at some point Booker realizes that he can handle this stuff. It doesn’t hurt his brain.

Quynh is fun, too. Booker finds that she enjoys his card tricks, and she has even better magic tricks to teach him. Booker asks her if these sleight of hand illusions have ever worked to pick up a girl, and she says yes—her wife. _Tu te fous de ma gueule_ , Booker practically yells in response. How does it work for Quynh and not for him?

“Maybe it just works with lesbians,” Quynh says with a nonchalant shrug, and then hastily reminds Booker that she’s joking and he should not repeat these words elsewhere.

 _Pas de souci, mais quand même._ Working with Quynh gives him clarity of vision, and Booker really needs that to operate. The immediate analogy is that on the field when he makes a pass he doesn’t “see” the person he’s passing to. That was decided two passes ago. Booker is seeing, two steps ahead, that the winger who is drawing in to receive the pass opens the defense on the side, allowing the forward to run into that position. And in case it fails, moving three paces ten o’clock is where Booker has to go after releasing the ball, so that the winger has options for the assist.

_And score._

And perhaps Booker struggled with the narrative concept of children being the end to a story. Life ends when you get married and when you have children—that’s what they tell you, especially when you’re a cis guy. Maybe that results in the unbearable existential weight of realizing that children don’t automatically bring joy, that they are expensive, hungry, needy creatures, and this existential weight just breaks some people. Or maybe others, like his dad, are just pure assholes.

Children don’t end your story. They are the beginning of their own, and you can’t write it for them but you can help establish a premise that doesn’t start from a bad place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much joy writing Booker's French—he's a pretty rude guy in his mother tongue. My headcanon is that he's definitely got a "gangster" accent when he speaks French, which is why he's self conscious about speaking French to Quynh, who speaks very perfect, standard Parisian French. Booker's mess of an English accent is a complete delight because you can never unhear the French + a measure of singsong Scouse thrown in for fun with a whole lot of Americanisms he absorbs from TV/music.
> 
> Also, AO3 user specialisthalstead [has written a smutty continuation of chapter 23 (it's a Booker/Nile bunga bunga)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954776/chapters/68463620) if you will, go read and give the fic your love! :D


	33. surprise question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile gets into the swing of things in 2027!

PSG fail to recover in the second leg of the Champions League Round of 16, and Inter are through to the quarter-finals. The international break arrives, and Booker is in Portugal for a friendly. The international break means that Nile’s studio schedule is clear for the moment as well, but she has a whole host of projects piling up.

Having come to terms with the fact that she is retired for real, with a blank slate for her future, Nile has compiled a list of new things to do with her life, and she’s trying to make her way through them. One—and this will always be number one—is the love of football, and after chatting with Olga, Nile realizes that her heart lies in grassroots football. It’s where the game is born, and it has the capacity to build a strong sense of community across boundaries. After mentioning this to her former teammates in the Whatsapp chat group, they joke that the Barça DNA is strong in Nile. At Barça, there was the ever-present reminder that they are nothing without the community, and they are duty bound to give back.

Olga gets Nile introduced to the youth coaching team at Inter, since Nile and Booker haven’t actually made their relationship public. Through her co-host Leon Howard, she is also introduced to the AC Milan youth coaching squad. Nile makes contact with the Italian women’s national football team, through the players she has exchanged jerseys with on several occasions. Alice Brunetti, Juventus midfielder and Team Italy captain, connects Nile to the women’s national team coach, and she gets added to various whatsapp groups for sport and community outreach.

Having activated the network of contacts, the invites start to pour in, since having Nile on board would really boost the profile of some of these initiatives. Nile decides that she should focus on causes centered in immigrant and refugee communities, since this pretty much ties in to the issues people of color face in Europe. What’s encouraging is that Nile’s coworkers are very interested in her efforts, and some of them even contribute resources, joining in with Nile. 

Nile attends a special training session with the refugee football team in Milan, St Ambroeus, and finds that she is joined by Inter’s new striker, Lykon, who doesn’t have any international match obligations at this time. 

Lykon turns out to be really passionate about refugee and social justice issues. He’s interested in Nile’s experiences as a Black American, since they’re so different from his. Lykon was born in Conakry of the Republic of Guinea but plays for Senegal, where his mother is from. He grew up in the community of African diaspora in Liège in Belgium, where his father sought asylum in 2009. He tells Nile about all the differences in regional African cuisines, and the recommendations he’s getting on where to find them in Milan, and then he realizes that he should simply take her to these places. She enthusiastically agrees, and she is treated to the best Nigerian jollof rice and Senegalese desserts. 

In turn, Nile tells Lykon that she has an upcoming fundraising match for a queer, mixed football team, and Lykon shows up to support her during the match. Olga attends the fundraising match too, and Nile introduces them to each other. Lykon turns out to be very interested in fashion, and soon he and Olga are gossiping about the sales associates at the various boutiques in town. With the conversation flying over her head, Nile decides to play with Olga’s children. Sasha is four and Polya is one. Olga insists that Sasha call her Aunty Nile, because it is the polite term, but Nile is Gen Z American and dies inside each time she hears that, since it makes her feel twice her age. Polya babbles in a language of her own understanding but she waddles around in the most adorable way, and she can kick a ball!

After the fundraising match, Nile gets flirted with by the team captain, who, let’s face it, is really hot and totally Nile’s type, and she feels a momentary lump in her throat. All of a sudden, Nile is reminded of her early years in Barcelona, rooming with a bunch of her very gay teammates, and the kinds of joy and drama that emerge from such a living situation. 

It’s hard to underscore enough how much the people at the queer football club feel like Nile’s people—this is where she comes from, and this is where she meets people on her wavelength. She had that feeling in her first few years at Barcelona, and then it all slipped away when she was diagnosed and became more withdrawn.

That night, she has FaceTime scheduled with Booker, and she tells him about how much fun she’s having, and that she met Lykon, and that Lykon went to her fundraising match. Booker tells her that Lykon has an eccentric fashion sense that the boys sometimes poke fun at, but in a good-natured way, and Lykon really likes wearing these shorts that look like skirts, and Nile questions what he’s implying.

“No, no, I think it’s cool. I just brought it up because you said he went to your match, so I’m just wondering if there’s any connection. I know nothing though.”

“It doesn’t have to mean something. I’m not going to question anything if it’s not out, you know what I’m saying? Just give people space.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Booker replies obliquely, and Nile doesn’t really want to argue so she switches to asking him how he’s doing.

It turns out that Booker got a hamstring injury on his first day of training with the national team, which means he gets to fly back early, although he’s certain he’ll get an earful from the gaffer the moment he’s back. Since his schedule is clear, he asks Nile if she wants to stay over for the week, and Nile replies that she has a bunch of plans she agreed to that are kind of hard to move around.

“Oh,” Booker says, sounding disappointed. “In that—in that case, can I ask you something now? I was going to ask you this in person but...I think I can just ask now.”

The question strikes fear into Nile’s heart, sounding at once ominous and claustrophobic. What...what on earth could he want to ask that was serious enough that he wanted to do it in person? 

“Shoot away,” Nile replies, trying to put on a cheerful tone, all the while her heart is thumping with a mixture of fear and...expectation?

“I...I wanted to ask if you were okay with me getting a puppy?”

Oh. Now it’s Nile’s turn to be disappointed. She was...somehow expecting a different question. 

“Yeah, of course! Why not! A puppy sounds great,” Nile says, perhaps overdoing the feigned enthusiasm, taken by surprise. “Why do you need to ask me for permission for something like that? It would be your dog, right?”

“Yes...yes it would be my dog,” Booker responds hesitantly. “I was just checking, like if you had any allergies or any phobias or any breeds you don’t like. Or if there are breeds you like. I haven’t decided what kind of dog to get.”

“Oh,” Nile says. Okay, duh, that sounds perfectly reasonable. Was she too harsh back there? “Um...thanks for asking. No allergies that I know of, and I’m okay with most dogs. I guess, one that gets along with cats is good, since I kind of pictured myself being a cat lady at some point in my life.”

“Right. Okay I can work with that. If you see any dogs you really love please let me know before it’s too late!”

“I think that’s probably unlikely. Go with what your heart tells you! You’ll find the right dog, I’m sure.” Nile has close to zero knowledge about dogs and she’s got so much on her plate that she’ll hardly have time to help Booker. 

“You think so?”

“Yes! I believe in you!” Nile says, as enthusiastically as she can manage. She really needs to pass on this one, and Booker needs to take charge for once.

“Aww, thanks. This is so nerve wracking. I don’t know how to choose.”

“No! Babes this is supposed to be exciting! Take all the time you want, don’t rush it. If you’re undecided you can show me photos and I’ll help you!” Nile is secretly hoping that Booker will decide for himself more than anything. She says this only because she knows he simply needs the reassurance that she’ll be there.

“Oh! Yeah that would be really nice.”

“Yeah! Why don’t you get started on that?”

“Haha yeah. Okay this can be exciting. I’ll try.”

With that, they say goodnight, which is a process that can take another ten minutes with Booker, since he has problems with hanging up first, and Nile doesn’t want to hang up so quickly in case it makes him think she is angry at him, which was basically what he thought the first time Nile simply hung up on a call after saying bye. 

After they hang up, Nile flops over on her bed, overwhelmed. That call felt like a whole ride, and she needs to work out why she’s feeling the way she is.

What was it that she thought Booker was going to ask, and why was she terrified of it? Did she think Booker was going to ask her to stay over permanently, and—here’s the crux—does Nile want something like that to happen, or do her recent experiences tell her that she wants more freedom in her life that Booker simply cannot give?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [St Ambroeus, the refugee team, is real, and very much deserving of your support.](https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2018/10/3/refugee-football-teams-battle-far-right-racism-in-italy) They are named after the patron saint of Milan, and their mascot is a pigeon.


	34. cross that bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile calls her mom for help to sort out her feelings!

Nile calls her mom to work through her thoughts, which is her gut-feel that Booker can be really clingy, and that she wants to be able to do all these cool things with her life that spending time with Booker really takes away from.

“It’s fine if you want to do that, but my dear child, how do you expect a relationship to keep going if you think that way?”

“It’s not that I love him any less, mom, it’s just that there’s so much more out there I want to do.”

“You’ll have to make sure he understands your perspective, that you’re not abandoning him when you do your other things. And I’m not saying this lightly—he doesn’t see the world the same way, Nile.”

“I know, mom—that’s why he’s seeing a therapist to work through this stuff.”

“Nile!” her mom sternly cuts in. “If you choose this guy you have to accept that you have to spell out your feelings, every step of the way. You know how he grew up, you told me yourself. He’s been wired to read too much into every single interaction because his parents were exceptionally poor communicators.” _This is what you get when your mom is a social worker with over twenty years of experience,_ Nile thinks.

“I know, mom,” Nile says instead, as her mind stubbornly tugs on the other end of the rope. “It’s just—why does everything else in my life feel easier than this? I just want someone who loves me and lets me do the things I love.”

“I don’t think he’s stopping you, Nile.”

“I know, but I just know he gets sad when I’m not there with him, and it makes me feel so guilty sometimes.”

“Oh _honey_ , that’s love for you. But it’s also something you two need to talk out. Guilt is not something you want lingering in a relationship.”

“I know, I know, mom. I guess—I thought he was going to ask me to move in with him recently but he didn’t, and I’m kind of confused about how I feel about it. I was afraid he would ask me, and then I kind of got offended when he didn’t.” Okay, Nile finally spilled the beans there.

“Do you want to move in with him?”

“Well, he’s got a nice house.”

“Oh honey,” her mom says emphatically. “Did you forget that I’ve seen the place? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

“It’s kind of far though—from the city itself. It’s gonna be an hour’s drive.”

“Hold up, did he ask you to move in with him? Based on current facts, this is a nonexistent problem.”

“I’m just—I’m just considering the possibility, mom,” Nile might be sounding a little too whiny there.

“Is this the same girl who took a ninety minute bus ride each way to her training ground for six years?”

Nile sighs in surrender. Okay so maybe, maybe she has the propensity to overthink certain things in certain situations as well.

“Cross that bridge when you come to it, child,” her mom admonishes. “You want to know what I really think of him?”

“What is it, mom?”

“The way I see it, he’s very much looking for someone to put his heart in the right place. You mentioned he had exes so it seems he’s capable of moving on to new relationships at least. But for now, he has given his heart to you. It’s all yours. And you alone have to choose what you do with it.”

_Welp._


	35. new best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker gets a dog!

Booker’s agent puts him in touch with some dog rescues and it turns out that there is a family that is looking to give up their Old English Sheepdog because the dog is too expensive for them to handle. _Perfect for your footballers_ , the rescuer told Booker’s agent.

With free time on his hands since arriving back in Milan, Booker drives down to see the dog, and it is love at first sight as the canine slobbers all over his face.

The rescuer subjects him to a realistic chat about the grooming needs of this particular breed—the number one reason why they’re given up. He’ll need to spend at least four hours a week brushing its fur, and periodically he will have to pluck hair from its ear or risk infection, and likewise the hair between the foot pads must be trimmed or it will trap dirt and also lead to infection. The rescuer sends Booker various links for detailed instructions on caring for a dog, and then she tells him that if he can’t do it himself, he should hire a professional, since money is no object for him. There are professionals for every aspect from dog grooming to dog training. Apparently, professional trainers can even train your dog without needing you to be present, which kind of blows Booker’s mind, since he can’t wrap his head around how that even works.

He’s determined to do some of these things himself though! Booker definitely wants to be present during puppy school. He might outsource the grooming, since he flies his barber in from Liverpool to do his hair every three weeks anyway. His former teammate Bobby introduced him to this barber and Booker couldn’t bear to break up with the man after moving clubs—the thought of having to establish trust with someone else and then believe that they can give him a clean fade that’s up to scratch just sends Booker into mental breakdown territory. It’s how he gets gossip on his ex-club as well. There are so many intangible benefits to sticking to the one guy that he’ll put up with being made fun of for this seemingly gratuitous luxury.

How cute would it be that his dog will have his own special barber? Booker has visions of sitting side by side getting groomed along with his dog. What a great pic for the gram it will make.

The dog comes to him as Ricky, an eight month old large scruffy puppy that Booker sends for a marathon eight-hour long grooming and de-matting session. Ricky is a ridiculous name for a dog, so Booker renames him Webster. With Webster fresh out of the grooming session, Booker makes his agent take a bajillion photos of him with the dog, for the gram. Although Webster is already kind of large, he will get even bigger and needs someone who can give him all the food he needs to grow, since big dogs eat a lot, which adds to the expense of their care. As the rescuer tells him, Old English Sheepdogs grow slowly, only reaching full height after two to three years.

Booker excitedly makes a post on Instagram.

__bookersebastien **3,212** likes  
**__bookersebastien** Hello world, meet my new best friend Webster!  
View all 37 comments  
**__bookersebastien** @YusufAlKaysani has lost his spot 23 minutes ago

He fires off a whole series of Webster’s before/after grooming photos to Nile, and then he sends the goofiest photos to his mom and sister, and then he sends some nice solo photos of Webster just to Yusuf, before realizing he should announce his puppy on the team Whatsapp chat. Hey, some of these blokes spam the chat with things way less worthy of attention. Booker feels validated by the flurry of emojis that his teammates send in response.

Webster is officially the cutest dog in the world and anyone who wants to dispute that has to fight Booker.

At some point, Yusuf replies to Booker’s spam texts with a photo of the ugliest Rottweiler Booker has ever seen.

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
online  
**booker:**  
he sad  
**yusuf:** Cesare says hi  
  
**booker:** Bro when did you get a dog?  
**yusuf:**?? It’s Nichi’s  


That explains why the dog looks like he goes to fight clubs on weeknights. Webster is not like that at all, Webster is a lovely, helpful working farm dog.

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
online  
**booker:** Didn’t know Nichi had a dog  
**yusuf:** Cesare doesn’t like when other people get near me so we can’t really bring him to social gatherings  


What an antisocial dog, Booker thinks. Booker will raise Webster to be the friendliest dog in the whole world, free of behavioral problems.

Truth be told, Booker has never been more glad that he has money. When Webster pees on his furniture he simply throws it out and gets a new piece. With all this downtime from his injury, Booker devotes his life to following his dog, who chews up and destroys all things in his line of sight. Booker spends all day around Webster with rags and cleaning sprays. This is fine, because cleaning is the one thing Booker is good at. He would clean up after his dad’s rampages, he would clean up here and there to try and make his mom’s life easier. Booker recalls picking up broken plates from the floor, cutting himself in the process. This? This is a breeze in comparison.

And it amazes him that he can just throw out furniture the dog destroyed and get new ones. Growing up, Booker did his homework (well, when he bothered to do his homework at all) on a plastic chair with a broken leg that was held together by duct tape. Booker liked that chair, for it would create a fairly thrilling sensation when you pushed your weight on the back legs—a sudden sinking, like an amusement park ride.

It is such a huge vanity to be spending all this money on the dog, or because of the dog, and yet Booker has never felt happier. He wonders if he would feel this euphoric about the dog if he didn’t have any money. He sees why it can get frustrating if you can’t afford a new couch, or how the unexpected €5000 vet bill in his first week of owning the dog can break a person. Webster was throwing up everywhere, and it turns out he ate a ball of Nile’s hair from the bathroom (did he dig it up from the trash, or did Nile just leave her hair on the counter?) since she started doing wash day in this house thanks to the spacious, well-lit bathroom with generous counter space. Booker increases the frequency with which the housekeeper visits, to avoid a repeat of the hairball fiasco, and that doubles his monthly cleaning bill. The dog trainer recommends an intensive course of puppy school for Webster to correct his bad habits, and that’s a further €200 per hour for private lessons.

During his rehab visits, Booker swings by Quynh’s office to show her photos of Webster, and one day it dawns on him that maybe his urge to get a dog is a subconscious imitation of her family life. Booker did start out intending to learn caring for the dog as a practice of fatherhood, a trial run before there are real kids in the equation, even if he’s told no one about this goal. Nevertheless, seeing Quynh’s polaroid with Andy and Loulou makes his motivations really obvious, and he wonders if Quynh somehow suspects.

Fortunately, Quynh is a self-confessed dog person and reacts with enthusiasm to updates of Webster. She even ventures to ask Booker if he wants to set up puppy playdates between their dogs, to which he enthusiastically agrees, and he gets an invite for the very next day.

When Booker arrives at the gaffer’s house with Webster in tow, he is slightly miffed to discover that her house could probably compete with his for the modern architectural awards. The boss seems to enjoy Webster far more than Booker’s presence, which is fine with him, seeing as she’s the boss and it’s kind of weird to get too close.

To Booker’s surprise, the boss claps a shoulder on him and lets him off easy for the hamstring injury—at least he got it right at the beginning of the international break and can skip the entire dastardly affair. He is introduced to Loulou, who is a shyer, more reserved dog, bearing some of Quynh’s elegance, but Loulou takes kindly to Webster and soon they are chasing each other around the panoramic backyard. The boss seizes on this opportunity to regale him about how her house is carbon negative, and Booker resolves to look into upgrading his carbon neutral house to compete.

For lunch, Quynh treats them to the best bánh mì Booker’s ever had, and when Booker asks her for the secret, she reveals that she has a special order for refrigerated baguette dough from her favorite bakery in the 13th arrondissement of Paris. She then bakes the dough herself, and for today’s version she used Italian pâté and speck for the filling, and the pickled vegetables are harvested from the garden right outside.

“I am about to say something very controversial, but I don’t think the Italians can make bread at all,” Quynh declares.

Within the confines of this house, Booker lends his agreement. Enzo might quit in apoplectic rage if Booker ever dares to suggest that he incorporate this special order baguette dough into his repertoire. In addition, this quantity of pâté is definitely not team nutritionist-approved, so this is at best a special treat.

On the weekend, Nile finally has the time to swing by, and Webster jumps up to the door and barks the moment she pulls into the driveway, which alerts Booker to her arrival. What a good dog! He hoists Webster up into his arms, so that when Nile walks through the door she is face to face with the newest addition to the house.

“Say hi to your mom,” Booker greets, waving one of Webster’s paws on his behalf, and Nile just freezes and stares at him with raised eyebrows.

“What...did you just say?”

_Oh._

“Webster says hi,” Booker hastily rephrases, hoping to cover up whatever mess he made. _Bad dog, Booker, bad dog._ “Hi Nile,” Booker says in a high-pitched cutesy voice, waving Webster’s paws again in the redo. “Woof woof,” he adds, and it only makes the situation more awkward.

Nile grabs Webster’s paw to shake it, and then she squints at Booker, pursing her lips as she does so. She lets out a sigh, and then takes Webster from his arms with an excited squeal, squeezing and cuddling the dog like he’s a gigantic teddy bear.

“Ohhhh, you’re so cute! Who’s my baby? You’re my baby. Who’s a good dog? You’re a good dog. Where’s your momma? Here’s your momma,” Nile coos, throwing Booker a little wink at the last line.

_Houston, we have a problem. There is something irregular happening that we can see from the International Space Station. Something is glowing in this location in Europe, a bit north of Milan. What is this? Can it be? Is this the first reported incidence of a smile that can be seen from space?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to user gadaursan for the [Insta skin code](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631214/chapters/22448411#workskin)
> 
> Cesare I got from a stock photo + I stole Booker's dog pictures from a dog on Youtube called Cooper the Old English Sheepdog 😔
> 
> Booker is so mean to Cesare because he’s so biased 😠😠😠 Cesare is a very good boy
> 
> Practice responsible dog ownership y’all!
> 
> Visualizations of [Andy's house](https://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/sales/detail/180-l-2727-swxdgm/via-san-martino-griante-co), if anyone is curious.


	36. leap of faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile hangs out with Booker and Webster

To Nile’s delight she discovers that Webster’s presence takes some of the edge off her relationship with Booker, since Webster needs so much time to be looked after, and Booker is constantly fussing over the dog. Booker makes an early recovery, and now that he’s back on a full training schedule, Nile has to put up with being bombarded with Booker’s aggrieved texts about missing Webster.

Mostly, Nile gets the overwhelming sense of being around two big dogs when she goes over to visit. They’re very similar, especially in how they insist on behaving like lap dogs, splaying their bodies all over Nile as if they have no awareness of their own size or heft. On the other hand, they cancel out each other’s separation anxiety so there’s one immediate benefit at least. It’s both amusing and surprising to learn that her boy can sit with the dog and comb his hair for hours straight with the grooming rake. It makes Nile think that this boy might do fine with human babies, and okay, so Nile is starting to have visions of Booker learning how to detangle this...little Black girl’s hair, and pray tell where is this little Black girl supposed to come from? Calm down, ovaries! _Calm down._

One of the best things to do at Booker’s place is nothing, and having Webster around gives such an added layer of coziness to the delicious nothingness. At this moment, Nile is lazing on the couch, Booker is reclining against her, and lying across the both of them is Webster, licking away at his paws in a labored manner thanks to his voluminous fur.

Nile tells Booker that she has been getting along really well with Lykon, and it’s getting weird for her to hang out with Lykon and Olga without mentioning Booker, because Olga knows, but Lykon doesn’t, and they decide that yeah, maybe it’s time, maybe Booker should tell his teammates that he’s seeing someone.

Booker agrees and promptly sends a text to the group chat, and the responses are almost a little too on point, which he shows Nile.

Inter 1st Team Group C...  
Yusuf, Nicolò, Ryan, Filip, Timofei...  
**booker:** Hey guys, just wanna say that I’m officially no longer single! I guess some of you already know this...  
**Timofei Ulatov**  
Finally, Book👏🏻👏🏻  
🙄🤨 I’ve been waiting for you to say this for months  
My wife told me months ago, sorry😪  
**Filip Symanowski**  
Whoa Olga’s always in the know😱😱😱😱😱  
**Timofei Ulatov**  
Of course 🤫🤓  
**Gael Ortega**  
Wait Booker 😳😳 is this someone famous?  
Given your track record 🤧  
**Booker:** What’s that supposed to mean🤷  
But yeah actually some of u might know her  
Nile Freeman  
**Ryan Musa**  
Book 🤦🏾 I think it’s not some of us  
I think ALL of us have heard that name  
**Romeo Lykon**  
Wow congrats 🎉🎉🎉  
I met her recently lol  
**Gael Ortega**  
Yo, dude, what’s your secret man?  
**Romeo Lykon**  
She’s so cool 😍😍😍  
**Ryan Musa**  
Uhhhh Lykes i wouldn’t use the heart eyes on someone else’s girl…..  
**Gael Ortega**  
Are you sure? She seems too good for you 😒  
**Booker:** Nah mate it’s cool  
That was for Musa/Lykes btw  
**Simone Boselli**  
Happy for you bro😊  
**Valeriu Croitoru**  
Wow what a score.. 🥳🥳🥳  
**Nicolò di Genova**  
👍🏻  
**Yusuf Al Kaysani**  
👍🏽  
🤩🤩🤩  
🙌🏽  
**Sandro Marcuzzi**  
Congrats...when’s the wedding 😉  
**Reinaldo Borges**  
Wait is this why u got the dog? 🧐🤯🤪  
**Gaffer Andy Skifska**  
How about you make a real statement? 👍🏻  
If you love her, 2 assists and 1 goal please, against Dortmund 😎  
**Romeo Lykon**  
☝🏿  
**Gael Ortega**  
☝🏼  
**Ryan Musa**  
✌🏾 What boss said  


It makes Nile laugh, and then she turns to Booker to say, “I’m with them, just to be clear. Two assists and one goal let’s go lads it’s game on come on boys.”

“Hey,” Booker sniffs indignantly, especially at Nile’s use of his stock Instagram gameday captions. He props himself up, intending to emphasize his reaction, but his movement only causes Webster to lose balance and slide off onto the ground. There is, in turn, a disgruntled snort from the dog.

“You know that’s not fair,” Booker continues. “We play away first. It’s gonna be tough.”

“Believe in yourself, Booker. This is what you were born to do.”

“What is this,” Booker grumbles jokingly, but settles back on the couch, resting his head on Nile’s lap.

Nile laughs, and Booker pouts at her. She then grabs him under the chin and squeezes playfully, to make him poutier. “Hey, just curious, what are you going to do with Webster on away days?” she asks, as innocently as she can, but the truth is that she has ulterior motives.

“I guess I’ll hire a sitter.”

“Right, makes sense. I guess I was thinking, except for the times I’m at work, I could take care of him too,” Nile suggests, and her heart is racing away having put forth the idea.

“It’s pretty time consuming, and you have to drive in from Milan,” Booker warns. “But you know, I have the sitter’s contact. You can make the arrangements with them when you need their help.”

“Oh, right, yeah, that sounds good,” Nile replies distractedly. Hey, how is it that her boyfriend can articulate so well the kind of thing she would have said herself, in the past? Alas, we have today a slightly different Nile, one who is trying to work her way towards a certain goal...

“Wait,” Booker says, shooting upright all of a sudden and narrowing his eyes at her. “Is it me or does it sound like you want to move in?”

Yikes, there’s no hiding now. “Um, I guess I’ve been curious on how it would work, you know? Like, I can’t guarantee I’ll like it, but I kind of want to try, just to see if it works. Can I reserve the option to back out, just in case?” Nile Freeman is not known for fumbling in front of an open goal, but here she is, hemming and hawing away even though Booker just served the perfect chance.

“Oh...sure,” Booker says, and he’s blinking a little too much that it’s starting to concern Nile. “Yeah I definitely like when you’re around. I mean, I was just too scared to ask before...”

“Sometimes you just gotta take the leap of faith, I guess,” Nile says, but she’s trying to convince herself more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yusuf and Nichi may have reacted at the exact same time with the same emoji, which explains why Yusuf had to spam the chat with more emojis to (hopefully) make everyone forget that happened lol.


	37. [expletive deleted]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile gets a cat!

As one of the conditions for moving in, Nile gets to adopt a cat, and she connects with a calico mama named Effie, short for Euphemia, from a rescue she has been following on Instagram. Nile was glued to Effie’s story from the beginning. Effie had been found, pregnant, hiding in the rain and suffering from hypothermia. When she gave birth, three out of her four kittens survived, but the youngest succumbed.

The three kittens are now weaned and they have all been snapped up by keen adopters. Nile has always had a soft spot for mama cats, especially when they come with such tragic backstories. Nile pays the fosterer a visit, an Australian expat working in Milan who currently lives with five cats. The Aussie fosterer recognizes Nile from the 2023 Women’s World Cup, and it turns out they attended the games played in Sydney, and they mention the 5-0 routing of Germany in the quarterfinal being a particularly memorable one. Nile is flattered that someone should bring up that match, and agrees to a selfie with the fosterer. Effie is far less enthusiastic about Nile however, and she is not particularly responsive to Nile’s invitations, although she doesn’t run away either. Nevertheless, when Nile has to leave, Effie follows Nile all the way to the door, and the fosterer concludes that Effie has made her choice. The fosterer will stay in touch, and in case the introductions don’t work out, Nile can try another cat.

Nile brings Effie home, and the pets are slowly introduced to each other. Booker anxiously googles every single thought that crosses his mind. What do I do if the cat doesn’t eat? Why does my cat roll around in the litter box? What is the normal size of cat poop? What do I do if the cat growls every time she sees the dog? Is my dog too old to learn to play with cats?

Effie is confined to their bedroom at first, and she completely ignores Webster’s towel, which they put near her to try and get her used to his scent. She is constantly yowling at the door, angling to escape from the bedroom, and one day she makes a successful run for it when the door is open, and she runs right into Webster, who then barks at her. She growls and hisses at the dog in response, but then he licks her, and Effie has the most confounded expression on her face. It makes Booker laugh a lot, and he gets so excited he immediately takes a photo and posts it on his Instagram. 

Now that he’s done that, Nile realizes that she can’t post any pictures of her pets on her social media or someone’s gonna put two and two together. Every relationship has its sacrifices.

There comes a day where Nile and Booker think that Effie has gone missing, and they search the entire house for her, and Booker is nearly in tears and blaming himself. Out of desperation, and as a last resort, Nile looks around Webster’s voluminous fur and discovers that Effie is curled up and hiding within it, the two animals sleeping oh-so-peacefully. Booker collapses to the floor with relief and he’s wiping tears from his eyes but at the same time he’s gone into a frenzy snapping away with the camera phone. The scene does make for a very cute photo, and Nile secretly snaps one of her own, from a more zoomed-out distance, of her boy on all fours, taking photos of their cat and dog.

It’s so hard to go through life without sharing photos of these fur babies. Nile has a moment of weakness when she gets a text message from Morgan, who checks in on her regularly. She sends Morgan a little photo of just Effie alone, curled up and asleep on a plain white duvet, because her cat is just too irresistible. This proves to be a mistake, since Nile wakes up to messages from Kaitlynn the next day.

Kaitlynn T  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Nile...do you have something to tell us?  
  
**Nile:** What?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** That cat...I’ve seen that cat online  
  
**Nile:** Wait I sent the cat to Morgan  
**Nile:** How is it spreading around?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** We haven’t heard from you in so long we weren’t sure you were alive  
**Kaitlynn:** Anyway Morgan sent it to me bc I’m better at this stuff  
**Kaitlynn:** And I was like, yeah, I’ve seen this cat  
**Link to:** **Seba Booker on Instagram: "It's too bright...**  
instagram.com  
**Nile:** How can you tell from that?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Looks like the same cat to me  
**Kaitlynn:** And those high threadcount sheets  
  
**Nile:** You can tell sheet threadcount from a photo??  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Normal people don’t use white sheets babe  
  
**Nile:** Couldn’t it just be a similar looking cat?  
**Nile:** Don’t you love all tuxedos because they remind you of Sophie?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Queen of the Nile is at it again  
**Kaitlynn:** That dog and cat are literally the hottest thing on the internet rn  
**Kaitlynn:** But maybe I can’t blame you since you DROPPED OFFLINE  
  
**Nile:** Hokay hokay yes. Um. Your assessment is correct. I am seeing someone  
**Nile:** We prefer to keep it private since it can get really messy if it gets out, so please do me a favor and keep it to yourselves?  
**Nile:** Pretty pwease?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Gosh darn Niley Nile  
  
**Nile:** What else do you want me to say?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Well you could at least confirm the name  
**Kaitlynn:** Let me repeat the question  
**Kaitlynn:** Who are you dating, Nile?  
**Kaitlynn:** Say my name say my name~  
**Kaitlynn:** Except I mean say his name  
  
**Nile:** No will do Kaitlynn Madison Thomas  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Goddamnit Nile  
**Kaitlynn:** And that house  
**Kaitlynn:** Are you really living in that beeyootiful house  
**Kaitlynn:** With Webster and Effie?  
**Kaitlynn:** That’s like everything a girl dreams of  
**Kaitlynn:** Minus the guy. No guys for me  
**Kaitlynn:** A lesbians only version of that house  
**Kaitlynn:** Damn  
**Kaitlynn:** Also Alex is gonna cry now that Yooker is not real lmao  
  
**Nile:** What the hell is Yooker?  
  
**Kaitlynn:** Yusuf/Booker? Everyone ships them lol  
**Kaitlynn:** Oh my god Nile you’ve really launched into a different orbit  
**Kaitlynn:** You know nothing  


Nile almost drops her phone like it’s a lump of hot coal. It’s kind of amusing that people are shipping Yusuf Al Kaysani with her boyfriend but it’s also very weird because yes, that’s her boyfriend right there and Nile has seen the two of them together and it’s nothing special? Just two bros chillin? People have such overactive imaginations? On the other hand if Yusuf ever wanted a threesome...wait. No. Fuck, this is so wrong. Yusuf is a dear friend. Nile respects his private life. Actually she still has zero idea what Yusuf’s preferences are, despite the fact that he comes over on the regular to play games with Booker. Nile usually tunes out their conversation, since they’re usually saying inconsequential stuff like “L1 square cross left stick up and right [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]”.

Now that Morgan and Kaitlynn know, Nile should inform Booker. As a caveat, they should assume this means literally everyone in Team USA will know, but it’s not likely to get outside the circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to users CodenameCarrot, La_Temperanza for the [iOS text skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722#workskin)! Sorry if I'm going overboard with the messages but...they're fun!!! And I keep expanding the code base I hope it doesn't mess anything up. But Americans don't use Whatsapp as much, so I had to maintain that sense of authenticity...
> 
> Again Effie is another stolen pet D: I feel so guilty stealing these pet photos she is Pebbles the Calico Cat on Insta.
> 
> \+ please support rescue cats especially. Temperament is not particularly breed-specific in cats so you will always find the cat of your dreams at a rescue + they breed extremely quickly so the more cats you can take off the streets the better. TNR (trap, neuter, release) is the bare minimum for stray cats, but ideally they should all be placed in homes.


	38. dortmund vs inter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CL Quarterfinals Leg 1: Dortmund vs Inter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borussia Dortmund = BVB / Dortmund

The first leg of the Champions League quarter finals arrive, and Inter have a really rough time at the Westfalenstadion, against Borussia Dortmund. It is the third largest stadium for a top-flight European club, and the noise and energy the home ground supporters generate can intimidate even the most hardened opponents.

Andy Skifska plays the team defensively, relying on tactical smarts to frustrate the BVB. Al Kaysani and Di Genova once again take their place as the center bulwarks, with support from defensively chosen fullbacks and two midfielders.

The match ends 0-0, despite the onslaught of very well crafted attacks from Borussia Dortmund. It’s the best result the team can hope for, although it puts them at risk of losing to the away goal rule as long as Dortmund match Inter on goals at the San Siro.

As a pundit and to maintain professionalism, Nile tries her best to remain impartial, but it still hurts to hear that her colleagues, and probably the average viewer, is inclined to favor Dortmund with their exciting play and attempts to craft attacks, while Inter are derided as parking the bus in front of goal. Andy Skifska is known for tactical efficacy, and sometimes this is just what it takes to get the result you want.

Booker returns from Dortmund, and Nile gives him a big hug. _Don’t kick yourself over it,_ she says. _There’s still everything to play for in the second leg._ She knows he might take it extra hard since the boss issued a challenge for him to score and get some assists in.

With some hugs and kisses from the creatures he loves, Booker seems to cope fine. It fills Nile with pride to think that her boy is getting stronger emotionally, and he tells her that it is in no small part thanks to the stability and security he’s getting at home.

The day of the second leg arrives, and they bid each other a fond farewell, leaving for their respective workplaces. Booker goes to the stadium, and Nile goes to the studio.

HOWARD  
What a completely different game from the first leg. With everything to play for, both teams charge right out of the gates. This is the reason why people watch football. This has been nothing short of a spectacular match with astonishing goals played by marvelous teams with dazzling tactics, and we’re only at halftime.

FREEMAN  
That was a real rollercoaster of a match. Borussia Dortmund took an early lead in the 15th minute with a penalty, forcing Inter manager Skifska to order her team on a full out attack. With Inter pressing high on the counter, they achieve an equalizer with Lykon at the 31st minute. Just before halftime, at the 42nd minute, the relentless forward tucks in another one for the home side.

BIRTLES  
Lykon’s brace gives Inter some breathing room, however—a draw at this stage will be enough to see Dortmund through to the semifinals. We will see you again, after the second half, and we hope there is even more to discuss.


	39. inter vs dortmund

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CL Quarterfinal leg 2, second half

_With renewed vigor after the halftime break, Dortmund launch spectacular attack after attack on Inter’s defense, and get the breakthrough they want. Moukoko puts them level with the home side at the 48th minute. Dortmund continue to pose a threat even after the equalizer, with an incredible 57% possession rate, leaving Inter to press for a successful counter. At the 63rd minute, Symanowski races down the touchlines with a heroic effort, only to be thwarted by Meier, resulting in a corner._

_LeLivre takes the corner, and it is headed decisively into goal by Di Genova, perhaps repenting for his error that led to the first penalty. Inter are now leading 3-2, and Dortmund have thrown all caution to the wind in order to get the next goal. LeLivre exploits this to cut the defense into half, allowing Musa to charge in from the wings to feed Lykon in a beautiful one-two pass, and it’s the first hat trick in the Champions League for the 19 year old striker._

HOWARD  
Thank you for joining us at the fulltime match review. What a phenomenal match, full of breathless counterattacks and thrilling chances at goal.

BIRTLES  
Inter Milan progress to the semifinals where they will face one of the following: Bayern Munich, Liverpool or Real Madrid, all Champions League giants with a whopping combined total of 28 Champions League titles between them.

FREEMAN  
Inter Milan have to their name 3 Champions League titles, but the last one arrived in 2010 under mercurial manager Jose Mourinho. Mourinho is one of only five managers to have won the Champions League with different clubs. Can Inter incumbent Andy Skifska bring the Italian side to a 4th title and make her mark in the history books, in the most exclusive tier of legends?

Aggregate scores, after both legs:  
Bayern Munich 3 - 3 Chelsea (Bayern win on away goals)  
Real Madrid 5 - 1 AC Milan  
Liverpool 4 - 3 Barcelona  
Inter Milan 4 - 2 Borussia Dortmund


	40. another year around the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Nile's birthday! Woohoo!!

The draw for the semifinals are held, and Inter Milan will face Real Madrid. Again, they play away first, traveling to the Bernabeu in a week’s time.

Before that happens, Nile gets to celebrate her birthday! Booker has something planned for the evening, but with the team high from their victory against Dortmund, Booker asks if he can host a mini party at his place before that. Nile agrees, and Booker being Booker, he announces this to his teammates in the most blasé way possible, declaring that his house is “open” from after training to 6pm, and whoever wants to drop by can drop by anytime.

Pretty much the whole team and their plus ones turn up, even Booker’s boss and her wife—and they’ve brought their dog to play! Nile is taken aback by how nice and respectful everyone is to her. She had no idea what she was expecting from Booker’s teammates, maybe some sort of testosterone-laden posturing, but it’s not like that at all, they actually seem to think she’s cool! Maybe it’s some sort of player-player solidarity despite playing in different leagues? Some of Booker’s teammates even tell her how much they respect that she powered through the last two years of her career while being in pain what, 90% of the time? That’s not something they could ever imagine themselves doing.

“I might come to regret it,” Nile says, reflexively playing her achievements down, but hey, this is social programming she needs to unlearn. When people say nice things? Take the damn compliment. It’s a great confidence booster.

Olga brings out a surprise birthday cake for Nile, and what follows is utter pandemonium as everyone starts singing the birthday song in a different language, with many of them being horrendously out of tune. Nile didn’t expect this at all. Booker just said there would be a team celebration for getting to the semifinals.

The boss—Booker calls her the boss so much that Nile can’t bring herself to refer to her as Andy, and Skifska sounds too formal—raises her hand, and asks everyone for a redo in English only, since Nile is American. They do a passable rendition, and then Nile gets to make a wish and cut the cake.

Nile wishes the same thing she wishes every year: to make a decent living out of doing what she loves, so that she can support her family, and to do good where she is needed. This year she tacks on a little extra—that wherever she ends up with Booker, the good will outweigh the bad.

“What did you think of the quarterfinals? What if we said we won that for you?” Lykon suggests.

“Please,” Nile replies in jest. “Just the quarterfinals? You guys need to do better than that.”

It gets everyone laughing, and then people are shoving Booker into her face and egging them on to do various things. Photo! Photo! Photo! turns into Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! and then in the free-for-all someone yells “first to smash cake on the other’s face wins”. Someone else hands Nile a slice of cake, so she grabs it and smashes it on Booker’s face before she fully registers what she’s doing.

It turns out that it’s the captain who handed her the slice of cake, and Booker’s just staring at the two of them like _what the fuck are you doing?_ And then Lykon rats out that it’s Yusuf who shouted the cake smashing challenge, and Booker is like, “what the fuck how was I supposed to hear that in the chaos.” Nile jumps in to say that they can do a rematch to be fair and Booker just stares at her lovingly like, _no, babe, you can kill me every time._

Grr! No! Nile wanted the rematch!

Evening falls and it’s time to chase everyone out, and Nile is surprised that Booker actually manages to do just that, at 6pm like he said! The Booker she first met would have clung to having everyone around his house for the sake of company and mess up all his evening plans. Dare she say that it’s growth she’s seeing from him? It’s certainly a welcome development.

They clean up around the house, while Enzo comes in and cooks a nice romantic dinner for two, a simple vegetable tian. Booker got surprisingly agitated the first time Nile saw this dish and called it ratatouille. “It’s not ratatouille!” Booker practically yelled in outrage, shaking a fist for emphasis. “It’s a tian! It’s all that stupid rat’s fault teaching Americans the wrong things.”

With the cooking done, Enzo leaves the house, and the moment the door closes behind him Booker springs out this mysterious brown paper bag from behind the curtains, and it turns out to be some baguettes he got from Quynh. “A special treat for you,” Booker says in a self-satisfied way that betrays the fact that the real treat is for himself.

It’s adorable how much her French boy loves bread, even though he might throw a fit if Nile ever calls him French. He loves vegetables too, and that combination of bread and vegetables just makes her think of him as some sort of simple peasant boy from ye olde times.

After dinner, Booker has a surprise gift, and Nile is excited for the reveal. He leads her to one of the spare bedrooms, and it turns out he’s been hiding the surprise in plain sight for more than a month. “I guess we really don’t use these extra bedrooms at all,” Booker remarks offhandedly. “If you happened to walk in here you would’ve noticed it straightaway.”

Yeah, Nile would, because it’s big, six by eight feet big. And very unmissable. It’s propped up against the wall, corners protected by corrugated cardboard triangles, translucent bubble wrap tantalizingly obscuring what’s beneath.

Nile unwraps the gift and as expected, it’s a piece of art—very abstract, since Nile appreciates abstract art a good deal more than Booker.

“Who’s this by? And why this piece?” Nile turns to ask Booker.

“Sam Gilliam. It’s called ‘Heroines, Beyonce, Serena and Althea’. I thought it’s something you would really like.”

“I do, but we can’t stick this in an unused bedroom!”

“Oh I know, that’s why it’s not installed. I was gonna let you decide where to put it.”

That’s not all, in terms of birthday surprises. Nile is so incredibly spoiled. The next thing she knows, Booker tells her that her friends are arriving the next day, and they’ll be staying over, in this house. He knows that she misses them, being an ocean away, and he reached out to Morgan and got her to gather a gang. When the girls arrive, Booker will decamp to Yusuf’s place for the week unless he is summoned for whatever reason.

The next time they see each other will be after Booker returns from Madrid, after the first leg of the semifinal. Just thinking about it gives Nile the nerves, and she’s not even the one playing.

For now, she’s just really grateful to have this boy in her life.

They turn down for the night and soon Booker is snoozing away. The charming thing about him is that he falls asleep pretty easily, and seemingly on any surface. Out of nowhere, Nile is hit by the realization that this was what her dad used to do, before he went off to war, before he was killed in action, and it startles Nile to realize this is her lasting memory of her father. It is true what they say about grief, that it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

It’s a sad yet wistful memory of her early years, and like a frightened little child Nile turns to her side and spoons Booker for comfort. He always feels so warm and comfortable, like a big old raggedy sweater, her boy with the hair of flax straw and the eyes of a distant blue sky, her boy with the raincloud always over his head and thoughts that roil like thunder trapped in the stormy seas of his skull. She knows that he sometimes cries at the drop of a hat, she knows that he’s capable of so much love that when it has nowhere to go it simply destroys him to hold all of that in.

Is it too much to ask, to hope that they can weather the years together, in this house that’s becoming their home, with the dog and the cat and whoever else might join along the way?

Morning arrives, and Nile’s friends are at the door—Morgan, Kaitlynn, Alex and a good portion of the Team USA ‘23 gang. Booker has his bags packed for a week away at Yusuf’s and is ready to leave. He is introduced to everyone in Nile’s gang, and for a moment Nile desperately hopes that no one fucks this up, not her friends nor Booker, since both sides look like they’re really holding their words in for better or worse. Booker gives them free rein of the house, and he says goodbye to Webster and Effie—and Nile can see how self-conscious he’s feeling—in normal times Booker would have spent ages kissing and hugging the animals, but he just gives them the littlest ruffle on the head. He gives everyone an awkward final wave, and then zips off in his car.

“You know he made us sign an NDA to do this?” the words burst out of Kaitlynn, the moment Booker pulls out of the driveway. “Do you understand how much we love you, Nile, that we signed this NDA, just for you?”

“Hey,” Morgan interjects. “It’s a pretty sweet deal. He paid for our airfare and we get free accommodation.”

It would be better, if Booker didn’t act like he was so goddamn terrified of her friends.

* * *

  
**Sam Gilliam** , Heroines, Beyoncé, Serena and Althea, 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Gilliam is one of the great innovators in postwar American painting. He emerged from the Washington, D.C. scene in the mid 1960s with works that elaborated upon and disrupted the ethos of Color School painting.
> 
> Color field painting remains the 86-year-old Gilliam's form after many decades of work, and his new piece, titled "Heroines, Beyoncé, Serena and Althea," offers a striking interpretation inspired by the artist's Black heroes. Beyoncé is one of the world's best-selling recording artists, Serena Williams is the most decorated tennis player of all time and Althea Jones is the first African American to win a tennis grand slam. Some of his newest art incorporates painting and work with metals, and "meditate on the physicality of color."
> 
> [Link to artist bio](https://www.pacegallery.com/artists/sam-gilliam/), link to a review of the [2020 show at Pace Gallery in New York](https://www.wallpaper.com/art/sam-gilliam-existed-existing-pace-gallery-new-york) and a link to the [Baseline writeup which is fantastic](http://baseline.tennis.com/article/91616/sam-gilliam-painting-serena-williams-althea-gibson-beyonce)


	41. the green-eyed monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker stays over at Yusuf's place

Booker has no expectations for staying over at Yusuf’s since he just needs a place to rest his head, but in hindsight he should have known that it would involve the captain hanging around in a major way.

“He comes over pretty often,” Yusuf tries to explain. “Cos of...you know, his mom.”

What Yusuf means to say is, because Nicolò Di Genova lives with his mom, in order to have sex, he has to resort to a separate location to do the do.

It’s not too bad, because Nichi brings food with him in the evenings—mostly it’s food his mother makes, but since he enjoys cooking as a hobby, there are occasions where he cooks for Yusuf, and on this occasion, for Booker as well.

Booker has the feeling Nichi regards him as Yusuf’s appendix: the purpose of his existence is a complete mystery, but his presence is mostly harmless, yet at the same time a total pain to remove. Actually, that’s being a little too harsh on the captain, who is kind enough to make dinner for Booker on the first night of his stay. It’s a delicious and healthy meal of seared tuna steak, crusted with sesame seeds, on a bed of salad vegetables.

“Yusuf really likes fish,” the captain explains, and then the lovebirds exchange a sickeningly saccharine look, beaming at each other.

They have some idle chatter, and Booker remarks that he feels really empty without his pets. Nichi wonders if it is a good idea to bring Cesare over, and although Booker is hesitant about it, Yusuf says it might work. If not—Yusuf will rein in Cesare, since Cesare treats Yusuf like the #1 love of his life (even more so than Nichi? Booker wonders but does not dare to ask).

Booker picks the bedroom as far away from Yusuf’s as possible, and that night he has trouble sleeping. Some part of his brain insists on sapping energy to stay awake to ponder what the captain and Yusuf are up to, and at some point he gives up on trying to sleep on the bed and tiptoes to the living room couch. There is complete silence from Yusuf’s room, but given that it’s 2am, maybe that’s not surprising. It is on the living room couch that Booker finally falls asleep, comforted by its familiar shape and smell from his countless gaming sessions at this exact spot.

Booker is startled awake when he hears someone rattling around the kitchen at some ungodly hour, and he falls off the couch with a surprised yelp. The captain, in turn, switches on the light to see what’s going on, and Booker comes face to face with Nicolò Di Genova and a knife pointed in his face.

“Oh, it’s you,” the captain says, lowering the knife.

Booker groans and covers his face with his hands. The lights are so fucking bright, and is it even morning yet? It turns out to be 6am, the sky faintly glimmering, pregnant with dawn, but sunrise isn’t due for another 20 minutes. The captain, true to his hardcore nature, is an early riser, and he’s making a fucking smoothie for breakfast. He chops up fruit and tosses them in the blender, and the blender whirrs with a jarring noise like it’s a horror movie chainsaw or something.

The captain tells Booker that he’s made extra of the smoothie for him and he’s sticking it in the fridge for whenever Booker’s actually up. “Why are you sleeping outside?” he adds.

Booker shrugs, and with a customary word of thanks for the smoothie, he hauls himself back to the bedroom to avoid more conversation. It’s too early for this shit.

When Booker wakes, at a time that feels appropriate for him, the captain is gone. He’s returned home to walk the dog, and from home he drives to the training ground, picking up the youngsters who don’t have their driving license along the way. Yusuf and Nichi take turns with youngster carpool duty, and they take pains to appear like they come from their own homes.

Booker is different. Everyone knows he’s staying at Yusuf’s for a week, and he gets to openly hitch a ride to the training grounds for the day’s work.

It is April, and the golf course is open again, so Nichi disappears after training for his preferred leisure activity. Booker takes Yusuf’s words that Nichi is a really good shot, and although Booker is invited to try golfing, he declines. There is just something about golf that doesn’t sit well with him, something about the rich people and country clubs.

After golf, Nichi comes around with Cesare, and as predicted, Cesare greets Booker with hostility, until Yusuf moves himself away from Booker and closer to Cesare. When Yusuf and Nichi are not looking, Booker throws Cesare a petulant frown and this only provokes Cesare into barking at him. Booker plays innocent and Yusuf and Nichi are led to believe that Cesare is acting out for no reason, which earns Cesare an undeserved scolding from his master.

Cesare doesn’t bark so long as Nichi is positioned in between Booker and Yusuf, and Booker wonders if this dog was intentionally trained this way to keep his owner’s treasured one out of reach for anyone else. At dinner, something about the capers makes Yusuf and Nichi giggle at each other, and it must be some kind of inside joke between the two, because it escalates to them kicking each other under the table. When dinner is over and Booker is busy loading the empty plates into the dishwasher, he hears a door close and yep, the captain and Yusuf have disappeared into a bedroom, to do who-knows-what.

Booker sighs resignedly, and then digs out a dishwashing tab to run the cycle. It’s funny how he knows where all these domestic things are stored in Yusuf’s place. He knows Yusuf’s house like he lives here. But he clearly doesn’t, and fuck, what is it that Booker is feeling? It’s a churning, uneasy sense of being weighed down. Something is pulling Booker into the depths, like he’s drowning in this feeling, this sharp, twisting, caustic hurt and oh, it’s envy. It’s envy that Booker feels, because there’s someone closer to Yusuf than he is. Does that make it jealousy, which is the fear of replacement? Whatever it is, Booker can barely hold a candle to Nichi in terms of what he means to Yusuf, and he doesn’t like how it makes him feel. Booker’s just a _friend_.

It’s a dark feeling, and Booker tries to chase it away. He turns on the television hoping it will drown out any sound, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t hear anything from Yusuf’s bedroom anyway. Meanwhile, Cesare has positioned himself between Booker and the bedroom door, and if Booker ever makes a move towards Yusuf’s bedroom Cesare starts to growl.

Booker is basically held hostage on the couch. Cesare is no fun at all, constantly monitoring Booker with his beady eyes, and he doesn’t even respond to treats that Booker tries to dangle in front of him in hopes of winning over some affection.

Halfway through an episode of some dark British crime drama that Booker isn’t even paying attention to, something on the coffee table starts to vibrate, and it’s Yusuf’s phone. The screen is glowing with an unknown number, probably a spam call, but then Booker notices that it’s +34, Spain’s country code.

Booker looks around warily, as if there’s someone to catch him. Yusuf is busy, and the phone is ringing, and how bad is it if Booker just picks up the phone to tell this person to call back?

Booker presses the button to accept the call.

“Hey,” a rough voice says, and it’s unmistakably Fabián Cañizares. Very regrettably, Booker watched enough Gandía Shore recaps to recognize his voice.

Booker doesn’t answer. _Fuck_ , he realizes. He’s screwed up bad. He shouldn’t have picked up the call.

“Hey, Yusuf, you there?” Fabián says again. “It’s about that thing I told you.”

At this point, Booker tries making a noncommittal sound, hoping to pass off as Yusuf over the phone. All the while heart is hammering away and his mind is blank.

“What? Are you busy? Anyway I’ll see you in Madrid, ya?” Fabián says, and then hangs up.

 _Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit._ Booker thinks. What did he walk right in the middle of? He stares at the phone like it’s possessed by demons. Meanwhile, in the privacy of a bedroom, who knows what Yusuf is up to with his current lover. Who knows what Yusuf and Nichi are doing to each other, who knows what state of pleasure and ecstasy they’ve reached in their passion…

That’s not something Booker wants to think about. Instead, the cosmic forces have deigned to leave Booker alone with Yusuf’s phone, right after an ominous phone call with the money-grubbing blackmailing evil ex. It’s like the universe wants Booker to do something, and so he enters the passcode to the phone, opening the gateway into Yusuf’s private world. The thing is, Yusuf never made an effort to hide his screen while entering his passcode, and it’s such a simple combination that Booker could have guessed it as well—it’s Nichi’s birthdate. You can’t blame Booker if he’s been given the keys, right?

He sends a message to the number that called Yusuf.

_Hey sorry, I was busy. Can you text me at this number instead?_

And Booker provides his own number. He then blocks Fabián’s number on Yusuf’s phone and deletes both the chat record and the call record.

Yusuf is his friend, and the love of Yusuf’s life is Nicolò Di Genova. Fabián Cañizares, whatever nefarious scheme he’s plotting, will not be allowed to come in between the two of them. That’s the least Booker can do for his friend, right?


	42. crocodile rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, lawdy mama those Friday nights! (When Nichi wore his...birthday suit..)

Staying in the living room feels like exposing himself now, so Booker attempts to creep back to his assigned guestroom, as furtively as he can. Cesare’s eyes are trained on him the whole time, and the problem is Booker needs to pass Cesare in order to go down the hallway to his room.

Increasingly agitated, Cesare begins to start barking, and he has a really loud, incessant bark. Booker tries to tell Cesare to be quiet, shushing him at first, then trying whatever Italian he knows, silenzio, stai zitto, piantala, chiudi il becco.

The last one has Nicolò di Genova opening the door in a sudden movement, concerned by the commotion. Booker is treated to a sight of the captain in full frontal glory, and he has to avert his eyes. Of course he’s seen the captain naked before, in the showers, but this—this has a distinct post-coital aura and the captain’s bits are dangling in a way that feels completely confrontational.

“I-I was just trying to get to my room,” Booker explains sheepishly.

“Cesare, vieni qui,” the captain exhorts, and Cesare trots jauntily into the darkened bedroom, with a supercilious snuffle at Booker.

“Sorry,” Booker says, looking up into the captain’s ice-blue eyes, and beyond the captain, the room is so dark there’s no telling where and what Yusuf is doing in there.

“Good night,” Nichi says.

“Buonanotte,” Booker replies, running a hand through his hair.

Nichi pulls his lips into some kind of a smile that looks more like a grimace, and then closes the door.

Booker retreats to his bedroom, and his mind is full of thoughts. He is haunted by the image of the very naked captain and presumably, his equally naked lover. Perhaps the sheets are tantalizingly wrapped around Yusuf’s legs and torso, leaving his perfectly sculpted glutes exposed. When Nichi returns to bed he will crawl on top of this pliant, patient body that yields and gives to his every touch and kiss. Booker realizes too late that he’s turned on, he realizes too late that he’s thinking of his friend and the captain in a way that feels like a violation of their camaraderie.

Fuck, Booker thinks. Fuck. It’s transgression wrapped upon transgression for him to have these libidinous thoughts about people who mean something to him, people whose friendships he values and yet he can’t help himself. Booker wants to jerk off and he also wants to cry, and in the end he picks crying because it’s what he knows best.

The tears are spilled and the fog in his mind clears, and he wants desperately to talk to Nile, but he also doesn’t want to bother her at this time and also what the fuck is he going to say? I’m horny for my best friend and maybe his lover? This is not a truth Booker wants to face up to, and he thinks that if he were attracted to some generic fuckboys (like...Fabián Cañizares) it wouldn’t even feel half this bad, but he is Booker and Booker only falls in love with people who are like puzzles, complex and difficult to figure out, and so he stuffs those feelings back into the deep dark shipwreck of his heart, where those feelings can be left to rot.

The next morning, he gets a message from Nile. Her friends want to have dinner with him, so that they can get to know him better, and Booker agrees to it. To be honest, it feels like choosing between being locked in a cage with 2 polar bears or jumping into an open-air crocodile enclosure, and in this case, Booker reckons he’s got a better chance with the crocodiles.

Dinner is nowhere half as bad as he expected. In fact, Booker wants to take back the crocodile analogy. He expected Nile’s friends to eat him alive with personal questions, but they’re actually a really chill bunch, and of course they can talk football. The conversation gets really exciting when they start talking about the most underrated players who have a special place in their hearts. It then evolves into a question of who, simply, is the niche player you will swear undying fealty to, for reasons no one else might understand.

Everyone has their own, and Booker is coy with his answer, because the moment he says it everyone gasps and you can practically hear a pin drop. _Xabi Alonso._

“Nooooo,” Nile gasps. “I can’t believe we’ve never talked about this before.”

“Oh shit you’re going to see him on Tuesday,” Morgan gasps, and Booker just nods gravely.

“Hey, well, you have to crush his team. The student must become the master,” Kaitlynn tries to reassure, and Booker just has an uneasy lump in the throat.

Nile catches on that Booker’s getting nervous, and diverts the group to party games on the console. It’s fun, and it takes his mind off things for a while, and Booker doesn’t want to be a hog so he plays just one round and then goes off to cuddle with the dog and cat. Before he knows it, he’s dozing off on the beanbag in the games room, with Effie sitting firmly on his chest while his arms are wrapped around Webster.

“You should just stay over,” Alex says, when Booker intermittently wakes up, and the rest of the group agree.

It’s for just one night anyway. The next day, Booker is due to travel to Rome for the away game with AS Roma for the league, and after that it’s straight to Madrid for the Champions League semifinal.

“Yeah, yeah,” Booker relents, and it gets him a warm smile from Nile. There’s nothing like the comforts of home, and being able to return to the arms of the person he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me remind the reader that Booker is an unreliable narrator, and Yusuf and Nichi have been perfectly kind and accommodating to him! What "2 polar bears in a cage" nonsense--Book, they trust you ENOUGH to feel comfortable acting as a couple around you!!!!


	43. une petite rassra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghost in midfield, whomst??

In the morning Booker says goodbye again to the gang, and he goes to the training ground for a light session, before the team flies off to Rome. They are given the keys to their hotel rooms, and the reporting time for the pre-match warmup the next day. 

In the privacy of his hotel room in Rome, Booker opens the encrypted chat with Fabián and catches up to the messages. Fabián has fallen for his diversion hook line and sinker. 

+34 XXX XX XX XX  
  
**Fabián:** What’s this? A burner phone?  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** Yeah haha  
  
**Fabián:** 🙄  
  
**Fabián:** OK I’m gonna make it simple. I just need you to sign the release forms  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** What release forms?  
  
**Fabián:** For my book  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** Can you send those forms again? I need my lawyer to look through them  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** Send the forms here. This chat is fine  
  
**Fabián:** Habibi you’re as hopeless as ever  
  
**Fabián:** You never remember anything  
  
**Fabián:** You know how many times I had to turn off the lights after you  


Booker really didn’t need to know that. Fabián Cañizares sounds like he has never moved on from this relationship, but who can blame him? Everyone wishes that Yusuf Al Kaysani is their boyfriend. Still, it’s an unnerving experience to hear all these intimate details about his friend.

+34 XXX XX XX XX  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** Is that in the book?  
  
**Fabián:** No, but I put down how much you love singing Christmas songs  
  
**Fabián:** Pretty weird for a man who observes Ramadan  
  
**Fabián:** I still find it sweet how you sang Feliz Navidad to me tho  
  
**Fabián:** We were naked in the shower  
  
**Fabián:** You gave me a nice Christmas surprise  


_What?!_ These messages are just messing with Booker on a whole different dimension. Yusuf sings? Yusuf has never sung in front of him, so what level of relationship do you need to unlock this feature? Granted, sometimes when Booker hitches a ride in Yusuf’s car he hears Yusuf humming Mario Kart tunes at the traffic lights, but that’s Yusuf humming to himself. Booker will admit that it’s an adorable trait but oh god, Yusuf has never sung in front of him and something within him is withering from the lack of affection. Not to mention the implications of the shower surprise.

He hates this and he regrets messaging Fabián. But—eyes on the prize. Booker’s just here for one thing only. To eliminate the enemy. To vanquish the evil ex.

+34 XXX XX XX XX  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** What do I get from signing the release?  
  
**Fabián:** Come on, you still don’t believe me?  
  
**Fabián:** I’ll delete your photos from my phone  
  
**Fabián:** And the video  


_Bingo._

+34 XXX XX XX XX  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** How do I know you don’t have backups of those saved elsewhere  
  
**Fabián:** Please. You know me. I’ve had the same phone for years.  
  
**Fabián:** I’ll delete them in front of you  
  
**Fabián:** You can have one last watch for old times sake  
  
**Booker (pretending to be Yusuf):** How are you going to delete them in front of me?  
  
**Fabián:** Have you forgotten? I live in Madrid now, for TV work  
  
**Fabián:** It’ll be nice if you can get me tickets to your match  
  
**Fabián:** But I can always see you at the hotel ;)  
  


_A golden opportunity!_ Booker has engineered this to perfection. The only problem is, he lacks the finishing touch. Before him lies an open goal, but he needs some kind of support to guarantee the best chance of success...

Booker ends up spending his entire night cooking up scheme after scheme of how to get back at Fabián that the match against Roma is a complete disaster. At halftime, he gets yelled at by the captain for not tracking back and leaving the defense exposed. 

Things do not improve in the second half, and the boss subs him out at the 60th minute. Booker gets off the pitch to a sea of boos from the traveling fans, and he thinks the boss is going to give him a good dressing down, but instead she gives him a reassuring pat on the back and asks him if he needs to see Quynh. 

“I need your mind absolutely clear for the match against Real,” she emphasizes. “Do whatever you need to get there.”

After the match, Yusuf gets mad at him for switching off when the team is down, and failing to cover for him when he is higher upfield, leading to Roma’s second goal. In addition, Booker gets the cold shoulder from the captain, who gives everyone else a comforting broshake to rally the troops. At this point, Booker begins dissociating, and his mind drifts off and he’s barely noticing the events of the dressing room. Symanowski is yelling and gesturing furiously, and Lykon pipes up to say something, but Yusuf brings up another point, and it’s like they’re talking on a TV screen, and they’re all talking about some ghost in midfield who literally dropped the ball, but whomst? Booker doesn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "une petite rassra" roughly translates to "one little fear". "rassra" is the Arabic word for anxiety but is now fairly common in French slang. Of course, Booker has Many Anxieties so "one little" is general internet convention, in terms of how 1st person speakers trivialize their major problems when announcing to the internet. I also love the idea of Booker unreservedly speaking his very "cool kid" Arabic-inflected French to Yusuf, whereas he gets panic attacks if he has to speak proper French. I like to imagine Booker and Yusuf speak in an extreme mishmash of English/French/Maghrebi Arabic.
> 
> For the record, Fabián's insinuation that Yusuf's observance of Christmas is "weird" is flat out [wrong](https://lucyclairedelune.tumblr.com/post/636520941603684352/but-like-christmas-is-racist-and-against-islam). Fabián is simply a gross and manipulative guy who induces guilt to get what he wants. :(
> 
> As a modern borderline-observant (Ramadan is the season of panic-repentance for a whole year's worth of accumulated sins) Muslim man who grew up in a Western European country who also worked retail at the club's merch store as an apprentice, Yusuf sings mostly the pop/more secular-sounding Christmas songs like Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You", Wham!'s "Last Christmas", "Jingle Bells", "Let It Snow" etc. He might also be capable of a very slutty version of Santa Baby but THAT IS ONLY FOR ONE (1) SAINT NICHOLAS TO KNOW


	44. je viens de là où on fuck les cops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

The next morning, the boss gives Booker an early call to check in on him. She asks how much sleep he’s got, and he replies that he slept well, which is true, since he tuned out whatever his teammates said about him after the match. _Okay, good,_ the boss replies. _I need you at your A game_ , she reiterates, and then tells him that Quynh will travel to Madrid.

Nile messages him something really sweet, and throws in a video of Effie trying to drink beer from Alex’s glass to cheer him up.

It’s a grueling schedule to have back-to-back away games, and by noon the team is out of the hotel and on the plane to Madrid. Everyone is focused on doing their own thing to psych themselves up after a loss and before a big game, and there is an air of seriousness. To lighten the mood, the boss makes them all play a party game where they have to point in one direction but say the opposite, and the next person catches on and so forth, and the losers have to do a forfeit. It gets everyone yelling and laughing again, and the boss promises to buy a whole leg of Jamón Ibérico de Bellota or something of equivalent value for anyone who scores against Madrid.

At the team hotel, Quynh has already flown in, coming directly from Milan. They are given the keys to their rooms and their daily schedules, and then they are left to their own devices to get settled in.

Quynh approaches Booker to arrange a meeting, and since they’re both free at that point, they take one of the hotel meeting rooms reserved for the team. She says that from what she’s heard, Booker’s focus has been completely shot and his mind is elsewhere. They can go through some exercises to identify what’s bothering him and to trace the source of the problem, but Booker replies that he _knows_ why he’s distracted. He just needs to solve that problem.

“Perfect, that’s what I’m here for. Can you tell me about this problem?”

 _No_ , Booker thinks reflexively, because the rules of the bro code say that he can’t sell out Yusuf by telling other people about Yusuf’s problem. Wait, he can anonymize the people involved, and Quynh is looking at him while he gathers his thoughts, and. _Eureka._

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” he asks Quynh.

“I will need more context to your question. Have _you_ done something terrible?”

“Yes, and I’m about to make it worse,” Booker explains. “I need your help. Can you swear to help me without judgment?”

“Within my professional limits, yes.”

“Can you...can you help me take someone’s phone? Wait. Let me explain. This is not theft. I am going to return the phone to this guy. I just need his phone, so that he will contact me, and then I can return it to him.”

“I believe this falls outside my professional limits. It also sounds to me like you are planning to commit a crime.”

“It’s not stealing if you return it!” Booker protests.

“Returning the item doesn’t negate the original crime!” Quynh returns.

“Please. This guy has been blackmailing a friend. There are nudes on the phone. I just need to get the damn phone, so that I can ask him to delete it.”

“And you can’t ask him to do that any other way?”

“I just need to make him scared enough to do it in front of me.”

“That sounds like criminal intimidation.”

“Well then, what should I do? He’s been threatening to release these nudes the whole time.”

“I believe your friend has a case for going to the authorities, but you should let your friend do the reporting.”

“I—please, help,” Booker tries to plead. “The authorities can’t know about this. My friend’s never going to report this. It’s complicated. I can’t explain.”

“We are bound by professional secrecy so I’m not going to report you for something like this.”

“But can you help?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUNNNNNN


	45. oh la hchouma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be gay, do crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Los Merengues = one of the nicknames for Real Madrid, since their kit colors are all-white

Booker slips out of the team hotel with a cap and facemask on. He’ll always be glad that wearing a facemask has become normalized since it really helps him stay anonymous. The cap and mask combination is usually enough to make him unrecognizable, especially if he dresses as low-key as he can help it, and if anyone ever stares at him for too long he simply starts sniffing and coughing loudly and these people will reflexively move away.

He meets Quynh at a train station, where she is dressed head to toe in fresh Real Madrid gear, looking like she just stepped right out of the merch store. In fact, her scarf still has the tag on it.

“Are you...are you wearing a Zidane shirt? In this day and age?”

“I’m just a tourist,” Quynh replies with a shrug. “A visiting fan of Los Merengues.”

It’s a passable disguise with a Champions League match less than 48h away, but still.

“Zizou was always my favorite,” Quynh continues blithely. “I loved him even more when he did that headbutt. Très iconique.”

Booker makes a noncommittal noise in reply. All his footballing career he’s been compared to the man, so his feelings for his former childhood idol are now tainted by resentment.

“Where’s your guy?” Quynh asks. “You know, this really reminds me of my high school days.”

Booker squints at his therapist with suspicion. “Were you one of those klepto rich girls?” he asks. Booker’s first girlfriend might have been a kleptomaniac rich girl who was an avowed communist and shoplifted to “stick it to the man”, even though she could have just, idk, redistributed her family wealth, but over his dead body will he tell his Quynh about this.

“Regrettably so, I did it to gain peer approval.”

“Oh la hchouma,” Booker replies sarcastically, as he has more important things to deal with. He’s checking his phone when he realizes there’s a puff of smoke emanating from Quynh’s scarf. “Are you...are you smoking?” he almost screeches with horror.

“Please, this is very stressful for me,” Quynh replies, and Booker can see she’s holding on to a vape pen.

“I am very stressed out too,” Booker says, and reaches a hand out for the vape.

“Are you trying to take it away or do you want some?” Quynh asks, defensively tilting the vape pen away from Booker, and he sighs and leaves her to it. “Where’s your guy? And didn’t you sell drugs on the street?” she continues.

 _Lord give me strength._ “I did not,” Booker vehemently corrects. “I never sold drugs. Someone just keeps editing my Wiki entry to say that. I was...I was just a lookout, okay? All the kids did that in our compound. It’s how we got our Kipsta boots.”

“What’s Kipsta?”

“From Decathlon?” Booker squints. This is un-fucking-believable. “Have you...have you ever been inside a Decathlon?”

“Alas, no,” Quynh replies, shrugging yet again.

 _Sweet mother of God._ Why is he working with this woman again?

At this point, Booker gets a text from Fabián. 

+34 XXX XX XX XX  
  
**Fabián:** At the bar. Wru?  


He nudges Quynh, showing her the text, and they spring into action.

Booker will text Fabián a few more times, to get him to take his phone in and out of his pocket. And finally, he will come up with some excuse to text Fabián that pretend-Yusuf has been held up and can’t make it at all, at which point Fabián will probably get irritated and leave. This is the window of opportunity for Quynh to take his phone. Booker’s betting on Fabián borrowing some random person’s phone to call his own number, or for him to use some sort of “Find my phone” service to track him down, and this is where Booker will confront Fabián about deleting those incriminating photos of Yusuf.

It sounds...like it should work?

It does, up to the point where Quynh hands Booker Fabián’s phone, an old iPhone 7 with a screen cracked horribly beyond repair, and then she clocks out to get churros from Chocolatería San Ginés, where the line can take hours on busy days. She’s washing her hands of this scheme from here.

It’s just Booker and the old iPhone 7 now. He’s surprised that this phone still works, and Booker actually had to trawl through episodes of Gandía Shore to verify that Fabián has had the same phone the whole time. Why doesn’t this guy bother to upgrade his phone? he wonders. Or fix the cracked screen?

It’s maybe half an hour before there is a call on Fabián’s phone. 

“Ho-Hola,” Booker answers shakily.

“¿Puedes devolverme mi teléfono?”

“Habla...habla inglese?” Booker fumbles, accidentally mixing Spanish and Italian.

“Please. You have my phone. I lost it. Can I have it back?”

“Oh...oh...yes I picked it up in the bar by accident,” Booker says. “I’m sorry. Where are you? I can return your phone.”

And this is the story of how Booker ends up in the restroom of a gay sex club in the middle of Madrid with Fabián Cañizares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH LA HCHOUMAAAA!!! Ok I posted this chapter a little early cos I'm just too excited. Quynh and Booker: being gay and doing crimes 🤝Where do I start with the chapter footnotes...if you get it you GET IT, but if you don't let me try to explain...
> 
> The title of the previous chapter is "je viens de là où on fuck les cops", which is taken from the lyrics to the song Zidane by 13 Block (a French rap/hiphop group) and it means...what it says lol. Zidane is a Marseille-born France and Real Madrid footballing legend, of Algerian Kabyle descent. In the years where I wasn't looking he also somehow managed to win a bunch of Champions League titles with RM???? Of course Zizou would be Quynh's favorite but I am struggling to describe the vibes of why.
> 
> Zidane by 13 Block is definitely on the soundtrack to this fanfic, [which you can listen to on this link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/59wOwWrfwtsWVTaiA3LRKF).
> 
> The lyrics to the same song also contain a reference to Decathlon. "Quechua l'hiver, toujours en Quechua/Taille M Quechua, taille M Kipsta". In fact, Quechua even [replied to 13 Block on twitter about this](https://twitter.com/Quechua/status/1076156978907541504?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw%7Ctwcamp%5Etweetembed%7Ctwterm%5E1076156978907541504%7Ctwgr%5E%7Ctwcon%5Es1_&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Fgenius.com%2F13-block-zidane-lyrics), recommending size L instead.
> 
> Ok so, Decathlon is a French sporting goods retailer, and they basically sell their own brands at really cheap prices. They're very global so I think most people might have heard of Decathlon? It's like Aldi for sporting goods. Except Americans may not know what Aldi is so...Trader Joe's? It's like Trader Joe's for sporting goods. You can't find Nike/Adidas etc in Decathlon stores, like how everything you find in Trader Joe's is Trader Joe-branded. Quechua is their in-house hiking equipment brand. Kipsta is the in-house soccer gear brand. The Quechua backpack is extremely ubiquitous, hence "toujours en Quechua".
> 
> The 16th arrondissement of Paris is a very affluent neighborhood. Kylian Mbappé lives there. I once called an Uber in this area and got a driver in a really nice BMW?? I really wanted to ask if he was driving a soccer star's car...as a hobby. I forever regret not asking LOL.
> 
> The title of this chapter "oh la hchouma" is a saying for "how embarrassing" or "cringe". Once again it's French slang borrowed from Arabic, AND IS THE ONLY APPROPRIATE RESPONSE TO BOOKER.


	46. que te folle un pez espada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is the story of how Booker ends up in the restroom of a gay sex club in the middle of Madrid with Fabián Cañizares.

Fabián Cañizares instructs Booker to meet him in a bar, which calls itself a private club. Members of the public are allowed in the bar, but must have a special invite to access the rest of this club. Booker, sweet, naive and innocent little Booker, complains to Fabián that the bar is too noisy for conversation and Fabián takes him through several curtains into a zone where, suddenly, everyone is naked and Booker realizes something is not right with this “private club”. It turns out to be a front for a fetish club, and in the day, a studio location for gay porn.

“Uhh, can we go somewhere without people?” Booker nervously asks. He is surrounded by men performing fellatio.

“I would prefer if you just hand over my phone, but okay, the restroom it is. They are all single stall here,” Fabián replies with an unsettling glint in his eyes, leading Booker into a surprisingly spacious stall.

“They’re completely accessible for wheelchair users,” Fabián explains, and Booker nods. “Now where’s my phone? Before I fuck you up.”

 _You? Fuck me up? I’ll...fuck...you...up...first,_ Booker thinks. He looks around, and then flattens himself against the door so that Fabián cannot escape.

“I have your phone,” Booker begins, “but I can’t return it to you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? And can you take off that cap and mask? It’s bothering me.”

“I’m sick,” Booker says, and then performs some exaggerated coughs. It doesn’t seem to faze Fabián, who lunges at him like a rabid dog.

“Hey, hey,” Booker yells, struggling in futility as Fabián successfully rips the cap off his head.

“Wha—whoa. Wait. Are you—are you?” Fabián seems to recognize him. “Sylvester Book?”

Fabián is a little off the mark but yeah. Booker is trying to cover his face with his hands, and at the same time he pleads for Fabián to return his cap. “Please, give that back.”

“Why do _you_ have my phone?” Fabián asks, and there is a look of wonderment across his face.

“I need you to stop bothering Yusuf.”

“Why?”

“I’m...I’m his boyfriend now, okay? And it pains me that you’re torturing him with this...filthy material from his past.”

“ _You’re_ his boyfriend? You?”

 _Why?_ Booker thinks helplessly. _Was that not convincing enough?_

“I didn’t know you were his type.”

_Ouch._

“Anyway, as I was saying. I will return your phone, but you must delete all material you have of him in front of me. And forget about the release form for your book, that is never going to happen.”

Fabián lunges at him once more, and he is pushing Booker up against the wall, and groping at Booker’s pockets. “Hey! Stop! What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck! Stop,” Booker yells, and tries to fight Fabián back.

“Where. Is. The. Phone?” Fabián growls at him. “It must be somewhere on you.”

Booker grabs Fabián and spins him into a chokehold. He takes out Fabián’s phone and holds it in front of his face.

“Hey...hey what? Face ID doesn’t work on this?” Booker asks, taken by surprise. _Damn, this phone is old._

“It’s got a home button, dumbass,” Fabián replies. “It’s Touch ID.”

“Okay, I’m gonna let you touch the phone, but you’re going to have to delete whatever you have of Yusuf in front of me.”

“Okay,” Fabián agrees, but instead of unlocking his phone, he turns it to camera mode and tries to get a selfie with Booker.

 _Oh fuck_ , Booker realizes. If Fabián gets that selfie out Booker is completely done for. In his panic, he lunges at Fabián to snatch the phone back, but it only results in a prolonged struggle. Fabián is trying to dodge while Booker is trying to land a blow, and Fabián swings out at him in retaliation, but Booker successfully hits his arm, and it destabilizes Fabián enough that he loses his grip on the phone, and, as if in slow-motion, Fabián’s ancient iPhone 7 falls into the toilet bowl.

Acting on lightning-speed reflexes, Booker slams the lid down on the toilet and sits on it to prevent Fabián from getting at his phone. Fabián is completely distraught and begins hurling profanities at Booker.

“What’s...what’s so bad?” Booker asks. “I will return your phone as long as you promise to delete the photos.”

“Tu puta madre hijo de puta it’s all gone, you son of a bitch,” Fabián spits.

“Why?” Booker asks.

“It’s all gone,” Fabián repeats, agonized. “Que te folle un pez espada.”

Booker looks down at his feet, and up at the screwed-up, weeping face of Fabián Cañizares. And then it hits him. “Is...is the iPhone 7 not waterproof?” he asks.

Fabián nods, letting out a sustained, anguished sob.

 _If it’s really gone, just like that…_ It feels a little too easy. Booker almost wants to fish the phone out himself, to check that it’s really gone, but then he decides it would be much better to ensure it’s truly dead. And so he flushes the toilet, over and over again, while Fabián hurls more obscenities at him.

How long more does he have to keep flushing before the phone is completely irrecoverable?

Someone knocks on the door after a while. “Not to interrupt, but you guys have been there for a pretty long while, and if you could let someone else use the restroom, that would be really appreciated,” a voice says patiently in Spanish. “I am sure there are other rooms for what you guys are doing.”

“Okay, okay,” Fabián says, picking himself up off the ground. “I’ve made peace with the fact that my phone is gone, and with it, all my memories from the past ten years. Do you know how much stuff is in there that money can never buy back? Maybe you don’t because all you footballers know is to splash your money everywhere and let it solve problems for you.”

 _I don’t know,_ Booker thinks. _Don’t blame me if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t back up their phone._ Truth be told, he can’t recall the last time he’s backed up his own phone either, since Booker was advised by media training teams not to store things, especially photos, on the cloud as a “public individual”.

“You can have that phone,” Fabián says, with a nod towards the toilet bowl, “if you buy me a new iPhone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter, "que te folle un pez espada", is a wonderful Spanish saying meaning "get fucked by a swordfish".
> 
> We stan accessible fetish clubs for safe and responsible play.


	47. i deserve nice things too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never dead until you see it die.

It was totally an ordeal to get out of the restroom. Fabián would not provide any assistance, so Booker has to yell out to random strangers to ask if anyone has a plastic bag. This being a fetish club, it turns out that many strangers are well-equipped not just with plastic bags, but with nitrile gloves and all sorts of cleaning wipes which they very generously share with Booker.

Having donned a nitrile glove, Booker fishes the phone out of the toilet and runs it under the sink to wash off whatever cooties it picked up from being in the toilet bowl. He sprays disinfectant all over it, and then wipes it down several times with more disinfectant wipes, and then finally places the damaged phone in a ziplock bag.

Without Fabián looking, Booker gingerly tests the phone and water has seeped through the cracked screen. On the other hand, he swears the screen flickers on in response to his touch, so he quickly stuffs the bagged phone into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later, with brute force. 

He pulls his cap further down his head and slinks out of the club with Fabián. They will go to the Apple store where Booker will buy Fabián a new iPhone. The Apple store is located right in the middle of the tourist district, and Fabián immediately asks for the highest spec iPhone they have available, while Booker desperately hopes no one identifies him despite the facemask and cap. He is about to make payment, when Fabián suddenly asks if he can get Airpods Pro as well, and Booker relents, urging him to be quick. Fabián then decides to throw in an iPad Pro and an Apple pencil, and then when the Genius assistant goes off to get the goods Fabián asks Booker if he can throw in a Macbook Pro as well, and Booker’s like, yeah yeah, just get whatever you want so we can get out of this place.

Booker ends up bleeding an eye-watering sum of money that night on Fabián, who has also decided to obtain an Apple Watch with the Hermes strap and a Mac Pro for his “friend who makes films”. Booker briefly gets the urge to ask if this friend produces gay porn at that fetish club, but decides he does not want to know the answer.

They part ways outside the Apple store, Fabián glowing with delight at his loot. Booker never wants to see his guy ever again in his whole life, and he is relieved when Fabián finally disappears into a taxi with his cursed shopping haul. Booker does a quick check to ensure Fabián’s waterlogged phone is still in his pocket, and, relieved on finding it there, he finally turns on his own cell phone to contact Quynh.

Quynh had advised he go completely offline to be untraceable while dealing with Fabián, and Booker realizes belatedly that he could have died in the past hour or so and no one would have known where to track him down. And then it would have been the scandal of the year if they found his dead body in a gay fetish club in the middle of Madrid. What would Nile think of him? Booker has a suspicion she might be more turned on by the idea of him visiting fetish clubs than she will care to admit. Anyway, it’s fine. It’s over. He can breathe easy now. Quynh replies and it turns out she is located nearby, having just sat down with her order of churros, so Booker goes to meet her.

Quynh’s churros are steaming hot, and looking perfectly crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside. She dips them into a cup of molten chocolate so thick it has the consistency of lava, and Booker finds himself reaching out for a little piece of the churros, with an expectant look at Quynh for permission.

“No,” Quynh snaps, like she’s telling off a dog. “No stealing my churros!”

“I guess we’ve had enough stealing for today,” Booker remarks sardonically, and the two of them burst out into laughter. 

They are in a basement where mobile reception is poor, and surrounded by tourists on all sides. A bunch of young people see Quynh’s outfit and yell “Hala Madrid” at them, and Quynh happily replies “Hala Madrid!”, which earns her a hard stare from Booker.

“When in Madrid, act as the Madrileños do,” Quyhh urges, and then exchanges her cap with Booker’s so that he is wearing one with the Real Madrid logo emblazoned on it. They leave the basement eating area, and on their way back, they pass a Decathlon store, and Booker drags Quynh in there. If they’re talking about cultural experiences, Quynh with her 16th-arrondissement-of-Paris upbringing needs this one. Quynh marvels at the incredulously low price tag of the ski equipment, which is marked on further sale since it is April, and it takes whatever is left of Booker’s emotional reserve not to roll his eyes at her.

Quynh ends up buying a Quechua backpack for no good reason other than the fact that she now knows where all the kids get this stuff from, and Booker simply bites his tongue. Who knows what the younger Quynh carried her schoolbooks in...a Goyard?

They return to the hotel, and in the privacy of his room Booker tests Fabián’s phone to see if it comes alive. It is close to its death throes, flickering away intermittently, and so Booker places it under the legs of a desk chair and pushes down with all his weight, physically breaking the phone into smithereens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 45 notes for the explanation on Decathlon, which I am exceedingly proud of although I'm not sure who actually cares since it needs a very niche venn diagram of a) people who shop at Decathlon, b) people who read fanfic, c) people who like The Old Guard and d) people who like football. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I received no compensation from Apple for listing out their range of products. On the contrary, like Booker I am a fool who have given them too much of my money. 
> 
> I studied Google maps, and the fetish club, the churros place, the Apple store and Decathlon are all within walking distance, if you're the kind of weirdo like me who [checks these things for fanfic](https://i.ibb.co/WxnggRF/piccy-map.png).


	48. avec le seum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You mad?
> 
> "avec le seum" = with the venom

Football is a team sport, yes and no. Football is a team sport because you need eleven people per team on the pitch. The pitch is purposefully large, so that one person cannot cover all the ground alone. The game is purposefully long, at 90 minutes, so that one person cannot possibly run the whole game by themselves. The offside rule exists so that the game has flow and movement. You can’t just stick a person at the goal end and boot longballs for them to score with.

Football is not a team sport because the extraordinary actions of individuals can produce the most extraordinary, individual results. Football is not a team sport because the scoreline is cruel. The scoreline doesn’t represent the amount of teamwork that went into the thing, nor does the scoreline reflect the quality of play. Many teams have lost playing the most beautiful, watchable football, and many teams have won through the sheer fortune of an individual, improbable error.

Football is magic, because it doesn't work like a conductor and their orchestra, where the score is known and everyone plays to their part. Football is like having a band where sometimes the only person on stage is the soloist, and sometimes the whole band plays, and sometimes the band plays well except that the lead instrumentalist is missing and there is no one to carry the melody.

No one can predict when perfect football nights occur, when all the stars align to produce a match of enough importance with enough famous players in top form, when the reality far exceeds the hype. Some teams are more naturally gifted at producing this magic, Booker’s old team being one of those. It’s not a science and it’s not an art, it’s just pure alchemy, the manufacture of something more elusive and precious than gold.

It’s a perfect night, 10/10. What else can Booker say? Morante and Ruiz are no match for him, and he cracks Los Merengues apart like their namesake confectionery of egg white and sugar. The axis of Yusuf-Booker-Lykon stretches the Real defense such that goals thread through the weft and warp of the field. The end result is a tapestry of Inter’s dominance over the storied Castilian team, a conquest for the history books, a battle to be sung about.

Booker’s on song and it’s better than Placido Domingo at La Scala.

After the match, all his teammates are on a high, and the dressing room is in complete chaos. It’s only the first leg of the semifinals, and yet they’re acting like they’ve won the thing. Without champagne bottles to douse everything in celebration, some teammates resort to shaking and sprinkling the post-match recovery juices. Booker doesn’t really like the idea of getting hit with pulpy juice and dissolved protein powder, so he hangs around the exit to watch, and then he feels a tug on his elbow.

“Come with me,” a voice says, and when Booker turns around, he is face to face with Zinedine Zidane, who is retired as a manager but holds some sort of vague ambassadorial/directorial role with Real Madrid.

Booker is quickly and surreptitiously shuffled into an office, where there is a man in a suit standing with his back towards him, looking out a window. Booker can recognize that silhouette from anywhere. It’s Xabi Alonso, current manager of Real Madrid.

“He’s here,” Zidane says, and Alonso turns around with the most radiant smile that leaves Booker forgetting to breathe. Let’s not mince words here, Booker has been in love with Xabi Alonso since he was five. And he means love-love, like complete adulation and unconditional love beyond any Greek definition. Is there a language that has a word for the sort of feeling he has for this man?

“You played very well,” Alonso says, shaking Booker’s hand, and he is so astonished and dumbstruck he probably gave the limpest handshake of his life.

“We’re not going to keep you too long, but we’re just here to say we like you, and we have our eyes on you,” Zidane says.

 _You could have bought me last summer_ , Booker suddenly realizes.

“You have...three years left on your contract with Inter?” Alonso asks.

Booker nods wordlessly.

“If you keep this up we might make a bid for you next year,” Alonso says. “For now, well played, and we’ll see you at the San Siro.”

“Just giving you the heads up,” Zidane adds, and then he shows Booker the door.

Football is a universal sport, yes and no. Yes because billions of people know the sport and care about it, and there are millions still who play it, and of this there are the lucky hundreds, like Booker, who get paid a fortune so that others can vicariously live their dreams through him.

Football is not a universal sport, because there are only two teams any person ever dreams of playing for. Real Madrid or Barcelona. That’s it. Just the two. When either one comes knocking, there is no one else. No other team nor reason that can hold sway, and anyone who says otherwise is lying, no matter where in the world you are.

Of all the billions of people on this planet, there is only one, who was just in a room with two of his childhood heroes, asking him to pledge an oath to their royal court.

**Real Madrid** | **1 - 4** | **Inter Milan** |  |  |  |  |   
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---  
Marvin 7’ |  | Al Kaysani 9' |  |  |  |  |   
|  | Lykon 35’, 58’ |  |  |  |  |   
|  | LeLivre 73’ |  |  |  |  |   
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that made me realize I might be writing one of the best football fics out there EXCEPT it's too TOG for football people and too football for TOG people LOL. oh well i do me (as in "you do you" but first person)
> 
> "real" is Spanish for royal, hence Real Madrid = Royal Madrid
> 
> Xabi Alonso is a Basque footballer who's played for Real Sociedad (his home club), Liverpool under manager Rafael Benitez, Real Madrid under managers Manuel Pellegrini and Jose Mourinho, and Bayern Munich under manager Pep Guardiola. He won the Champions League with Liverpool in 2005, and with Real Madrid in 2014. With the Spanish National Team, he won the Euros in 2008 and 2012, and the World Cup in 2010. As of 2020, he is the manager of Real Sociedad. In 2027...who knows.
> 
> I...I am very restrained here I don't know if you want to know HOW MUCH I love Xabi Alonso but I will forever love Xabi Alonso my love for him is like another 100k fanfic on its own + if you're from football LJ fandom I THINK YOU UNDERSTAND MY FEELINGS. He is also very, very good looking I don't know how to convey how good looking he is. Maybe have some links: [link 1](https://fitfootballers.tumblr.com/post/625087879731920896) (hot photoshoot), [link 2](https://a-ship-is-safe-in-harbor.tumblr.com/post/165983406939/tattoos-are-my-weakness-here-you-go) (vid where you hear how to pronounce his name too), [link 3](https://duckflyfly.tumblr.com/post/172245677916/gerrard-on-reunions-with-xabi) umm...you guessed it this link is basically my FOREVER OTP.


	49. three little words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker returns home after Madrid

Booker returns home, sweet home, and he can hear Webster alert the house with a bark. Webster and Effie rush to the door to greet him, but Booker first throws himself into Nile’s arms. She is so happy she could have lifted him with how hard she’s squeezing, and Booker thinks it might be nice to escape gravity for a brief second.

The dog and the cat are staring expectantly with these adorable little faces you can’t say no to, and at some point the humans finally release each other for long enough to give them attention. They love him so much—Effie is burrowing her head into Booker’s side, and Webster is licking him in the face. “I love you, I love you,” the words gush out of him in a baby voice, as he capitulates and lies down on the floor so that Webster and Ellie can climb all over him.

Nile is looking at him askance with a cocked eyebrow, and—why, what’s on her mind—and oh—was it the _I love you_?

“I love you too Nile Freeman,” he says, grinning up at her from the floor.

“After the dog and cat?” Nile teases.

“Yes, after the dog and cat. But at least you’re my favorite human.”

“I’ll take that,” Nile says, kneeling on the floor to ruffle his hair. “Good dog, gooooood dog.”

“Arf arf,” Booker replies, folding his hands in a paw-like gesture.

“Who’s a good boy?” Nile asks, and she’s kind of tickling him all over.

“Woof woof,” Booker says, amidst bouts of avoiding Nile’s tickles and trying not to laugh.

“You were amazing, that match.”

For the match against Madrid, Booker’s earned praise from the gaffer, the captain, some pundits, some journos, but it is Nile saying he did a good job that he treasures the most.

The mood remains buoyant until bedtime, but when Booker lays his head on his pillow he begins to have flashbacks about Fabián Cañizares and the gay sex club. That was such a surreal experience. People were doing all sorts of unspeakable things to each other in that club, on swings and crosses in dimly lit rooms with violet and pink lighting. What porn studio shot in that location again? Booker tries to remember. Fabián had told him the name but he didn’t pin it to memory. He could try going on Google maps to retrace his steps to find the location of the club and see if he can find the porn studio from there. What was Fabián’s association with that club? Booker tries reaching for his phone, and he sees that Nile hasn’t fallen asleep either.

“Hey,” she says to him, and Booker decides he should leave his gay club snooping for another time. “I hope you had a good time in Madrid,” she continues.

“I did,” he replies, but the images in his mind are full of naked, muscly men-flesh, contorted in all sorts of sexual positions. And then there is Fabián, greasy and insouciant and very louche, with an undeniable physicality behind the loud printed button down shirt with not one, not two but _three_ buttons undone, not to mention the ridiculously tight ripped jeans and the belt buckle with the eyegrabbing double G’s. There is the match, a blur of white figures mixed with the black-blue, and Booker the master weaver of through passes. There is Yusuf getting the ball after a rebound when Booker was first denied, the one-two pass with Symanowski who hits it through to Lykon, the 40 meter long ball to the onside, oncoming Lykon for an easy chip, and then, the cherry on top, the sweet goal to his name. Then there is the room with Zidane and Xabi Alonso.

_Xabi Alonso._

Fuck. Zidane he’s met before, at France’s World Cup national team base in Colorado. It’s difficult to grow up in Marseille and in Zidane’s shadow, and the pressure of incessant comparisons have muddied his feelings for the man. What would Nile say, since she belongs so firmly to the blaugranes, if Booker hightailed it to their eternal rivals at the Bernabeu? He only has the words of one man to go by, and yet thinking about this causes an incredible endorphin rush.

Nile is running her hands down his arms and chest, and her legs are snaking around his, seeking attention. Booker turns to look into the eyes of the woman that he loves and yet he can’t get another person off his mind.

“N-Nile? I think I have something to tell you,” he begins.

“Oh—you too? I was gonna um, say something myself.”

 _Oh. What?_ Booker was so preoccupied with his thoughts he didn’t notice Nile simmering away with her own.

“Umm…you go first?” he suggests, as sweetly as he can.

“No no, you go first,” she nervously deflects.

“I don’t think I’m straight.”/“My IUD’s expiring and I’m thinking of not replacing it.”

This time, Nile reacts first. “You _what_?” she exclaims, her voice uncontrollably crossing a polite threshold.

“Uh,” Booker punctuates, but can’t find the words to continue. His brain is trying to process two entirely different topics.

“How...did you realize?” Nile prompts, consumed by curiosity.

And Booker is thrown back to Yusuf’s place, and the naked captain, and Fabián Cañizares, and the gay fetish sex club and the awful soul-eating jealousy over Yusuf and the dream of Xabi Alonso’s approval and he can’t even begin to explain this without kicking the hornets’ nest of secrets he’s sworn to uphold.

“It’s a long story, I’m still working it out,” he replies instead.

“Oh, your egg cracked,” Nile murmurs with a gentle laugh, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “My precious little baby bi. I can’t believe, of all the people in the world, it’s you.”

Booker has no idea what to say so he simply clears his throat.

“Oh gosh, haha, wow. I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe I was gonna ask you about babies in a very heterosexual way but I guess um, haha, wow, I hope we have the gayest babies on earth. If you’re okay with the idea, that is.”

“Yeah, yeah sure. You said it would take at least a year right? But it’s definitely good to start planning now so that we’re ready when the time comes. In the meantime I guess I’ll keep using condoms?”

“Yes, yes, well maybe six months to a year,” Nile clarifies, sounding encouraged. “I’ll go ahead and chat with my doc about the rest of my meds then. You know, this means that I see us being together for the next few years at least,” Nile says, looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk to complete her sentence.

“Just the next few years?”

“Hey, things can change unexpectedly sometimes, I’m just trying not to get carried away.”

“Yes, yes,” Booker agrees, and in his mind he’s wondering when to bring up that these babies might have to grow up in Madrid…

“I love you,” Nile says excitedly, burying her face in his neck with an extra hard squeeze.

“Love you too,” he replies, and they go on like this for a while, a pair of besotted lovers echoing each other with sweet nothings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many "three little words" in this chapter!! Is it "I love you"? "You were amazing?" "I'm not straight" "Xabi Alonso Olano"?? ...or all of the above


	50. liverpool vs bayern; inter vs real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 2nd legs of the 2026-2027 Champions League semifinals are here!

FREEMAN  
In classic Liverpool style, they have held Bayern at bay, making it 1-0 at Anfield to avenge their 2-1 defeat, winning on away goals to progress to the finals. This puts an end to the Bavarian side’s hopes of playing the final in their home stadium. With both teams playing very similar high-octane styles of gegenpressing, Liverpool win the battle through sheer willpower. 

BIRTLES  
Having made it to the second Champions League final of his career, James Copley once again shows why he deserves a place alongside the legendary managers of Shankly and Klopp. 

HOWARD  
Though they are far outnumbered, the traveling fans can be heard from far, and they will reappear on this ground in far greater numbers for the final. 

BIRTLES  
Now let’s move on to the second semifinal. Real Madrid bring a real dogged fight to the San Siro, and the nerazzuri, cautious not to accumulate yellow cards that could see key players miss the final, suffer onslaught after onslaught from Los Blancos.

FREEMAN  
Yes, it’s quite the Real brand, don’t you think? Behind that clean, white image lies a shocking capacity for brutality that hardly leaves a stain on their image.

HOWARD  
As expected from a former blaugrana [chuckle]

BIRTLES  
Thanks to the robust defensive strategy from manager Andy Skifksa, the Italian side holds out, keeping an improbable clean sheet despite the odds.

FREEMAN  
Di Genova is substituted at the 50th minute with a probable ankle injury, but it also looks like Skifska is playing it safe to preserve important players for the final. 

HOWARD  
With a penalty taken by Lykon at the 68th minute, Inter Milan seal the deal. They are through to the finals of the 2026-2027 Champions League at the Allianz Arena, where they face a resurgent Liverpool. Both managers have won the Champions League before, and they will be keen to add another one to the record.


	51. take a sad song and make it better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is to help fill some exposition gaps in the story and set the stage for the final...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! In this festive week we begin the mini arc of Beatles chapter titles. Isn't Hey Jude such a wonderful song for Booker?

Booker has won the Champions League once, at Liverpool with James Copley. It remains, to date, one of the best memories of his life.

Playing for a club like Liverpool is to play for a team with supernatural help from the fans. It just sounds so crazy on paper—the fans in the Kop can stop an opposing goal from going in through sheer willpower, and likewise they can make your ball bounce off the post at the perfect angle that hits the back of the net. These same fans will travel the earth for you, be the wind beneath your wings, the rocket fuel to escape gravity. 

It was in Wembley, it was May 2024. Liverpool vs Juventus. 0-0 at half time, 2-2 at the 90th minute. 3-3 in extra time, and then it went to penalties. Their formidable goalkeeper kept out shots from Dybala and De La Vega. It was almost like the miracle of Istanbul again.

Under manager James Copley and captain Joey Keane, Liverpool once again became the champions of Europe. That’s one of the toughest matches Booker’s played, physically and mentally speaking, but he’s glad his team prevailed. It would have sucked to be on the losing side in such a closely matched game.

Playing for James Copley was certainly a huge part of Booker’s growth as a player. Copley was stingy with praise, but when the praise came you knew you did something really, really right. In some ways it made the players hunger for his approval all the more—Booker certainly did. Copley demanded a high work ethic, and Booker had to step up a lot, to grow into Copley’s mold for him.

When Copley got angry he leaned towards being an authoritarian, refusing to hear other viewpoints, but players could always trust that he had a vision. On a personal level, he was warm, and a great role model as a family man.

Things changed when Booker fell out of favor with Copley. It happened gradually, and Booker had no idea it was happening until it was too late. He still has no idea whether it was something he said or did, but something in the ground shifted when Booker was ruled out of play for weeks due to an injury. It was dysfunctional, the way Copley tried to keep players loyal to him even if he didn’t have a use for them anymore. Perhaps he had some twisted need to continually be adulated by his players, and it made him very opaque with what he truly thought about them. 

When Booker started to get sidelined he struggled badly with self-esteem and confidence issues. Copley still continued to hear him out, showing him concern and a listening ear, only to leave him on the bench when the next game came around. Booker just wanted to know what was wrong, so he could fix it, but never got a satisfactory answer.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the biggest difference between Copley and Andy is how he has never felt blindsided by Andy’s decisions. With Copley, Booker could get told he’s doing well in training and yet when it came to matchday he would be played out of position, if he was played at all, especially in his last year with the club.

Andy is a great human manager. He’s come to really appreciate her hedgehog approach, which is that she seems really prickly and unpleasant to outsiders, but if you’re her responsibility, she works with you and shows you her good side. He enjoys her approach of transparent problem solving, and how she lays out her thought processes clearly for the team even when she doesn’t have a clear answer, and how she gets the team to think critically.

The truth is, the outside world still isn’t very kind to her, because she is one woman in the world of men’s football, and hopefully she won’t have to wait as long as Jeanne d’Arc to become a saint.

Booker decides to stop by the gaffer’s office after training, just because something’s been weighing on his mind. He tells her that he’s been struggling with the idea of playing against his former team, and he’s worried it might affect his performance in the final.

“You won’t be the first person to do so,” the boss reassures. “What I’ve seen some players do is they will play to the best of their abilities because this is their job, but they hold back on celebrations if their team scores, in order to show that they still respect their former team. Is that something you think you can do, or are there other roadblocks?”

Booker stops to consider her words. “Yes I think that’s something I can do,” he says. “Do you think you can help me tell the rest?”

“It would sound better coming directly from you. Why don’t we do that after the tactical classroom? I’ll support you if anyone shows a negative reaction.”

“Wow? You would do that? Yeah that sounds great.”

“You know what, since you’re here, maybe let me roadtest my workshop ideas,” the boss continues. “After the tactical classroom, I was gonna ask everyone to go around saying why they play football, why they want to win the Champions League and whether there is any connection between the two.”

“Oh wow.” Very meta. “I think I’ll need time to think about this.”

“You can take it home,” the boss says. “Maybe I’ll preassign the questions then. Do you think I should make it optional so that only those who want to share will share?”

“Hmm I think there should be the option, but you don’t have to say that explicitly. Also once someone says something personal I think everyone else will open up too,” Booker offers, and it feels strangely nice to be allowed input into the boss’s decisions.

“Agreed. So we’ll go around and if someone doesn’t really have an answer we’re not going to give them grief about it,” she concludes. “Sometimes a job’s just a job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never heard of the Miracle of Istanbul, you should watch [this recap of the Champions League final from 2004-2005, in which Liverpool came from 3-0 down at halftime to make it 3-3 at 90 minutes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OQToElxke4), and then they went on to win the whole thing on penalties. Regardless of the team you support, this is one of the most amazing football events ever imo. The AC Milan lineup of that year is like a football wet dream--Dida, Cafu, Stam, Nesta, Maldini, Pirlo, Gattuso, Seedorf, Kaka, Shevchenko, Crespo, and yet Liverpool managed the impossible.
> 
> For further reading/listening, might I suggest [this podcast episode](https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/anthropocene-reviewed/episodes/anthropocene-reviewed-youll-never-walk-alone-and-jerzy-dudek) that details the origin of the song "You'll Never Walk Alone" + the story of Jerzy Dudek, the goalkeeper hero of the Miracle of Istanbul, who apprenticed as a miner?
> 
> I have a lot of football thoughts and how the game has changed (with all this money, can we never get working class heroes ever again?) but I'll let them unfold with the next few chapters. For now, I will part with: if you're a Liverpool fan you know that magic is real.


	52. there are places i remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are places I'll remember, all my life, though some have changed. Some forever, not for better, some have gone, and some remain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -mention of domestic violence  
> -mention of suicide  
> -mention of French Islamophobia (*shakes fist*)

_Q: Why do you play football?_

The first image that pops up in Booker’s mind is a pair of shoes, pure white Nike Tiempos with a fluoro yellow swoosh. Booker first started playing football because his older brother Pascal played football. It was a way to get out of the house and his mom never let him go out alone but it was okay if he tagged along with Pascal.

In those pre-pubescent days Booker was tiny—he had a lighter, shorter frame than average, having only shot up in a late growth spurt, while his brother was big and tall like a tree. Being of a robust build, Pascal was stuck to the backline to bully other players into submission. It was good being Pascal’s little brother, since it meant that no one would really dare to mess with him.

In those days they played football in a patchy field near their apartment block. People might assume that living in a social housing complex was the most depressing time of Booker’s life, but it is quite the opposite.

They moved to the social housing complex when their mom finally found the courage to leave their abusive father. Before this, they lived in a middle-middle class sort of place in the suburbs, in a house that was just full of bad vibes. They were always the family screaming and arguing—the shouting matches were usually between his dad, his mom and his older brother, and from time to time Booker would burst into tears begging everyone to stop. Of course his crying only made things worse—and yet all the neighbors acted like nothing happened. They must have been able to hear, they must have heard that bad things were going on. Yet they decided that it simply wasn’t their business.

On one occasion someone did call the cops. The cops showed up and they must have been able to see the crying woman and the crying children in the background, but his dad just told the cops that he caught his son—with a nod to Pascal—doing bad things, and his dad started chatting with the cops about football results and the cops just started laughing with his dad and then they simply left.

At the social housing complex, they didn’t have much money but their dad was out of their life by that point. There were plenty of kids around their age too, and although all the moms put a pretty strict curfew on them, they got to play outside before sunset. The kids would trade curse words in all the different languages and there was always this ongoing dare on how bold you could get with your swearing before an adult caught you in the act and whooped you for it.

There were local organizations that held activities for the residents, and Ramadan is a huge community affair. Neighbors would invite them for iftar, the breaking of the fast, and they would all joyfully partake.

In broad daylight when they played football they were sometimes given money for alerting a bunch of young men, who loitered around on electric bikes and scooters, if the cops were anywhere near. It was with this money that they bought their football equipment for after school kickabouts. Pascal had a good head for math and he became the de facto treasurer of sorts for the young kids, and because he managed the money all the other kids wanted to be friends.

Pascal was introduced to a youth football team through his collège, and he had somehow convinced his coach to let Booker try for the team, despite the fact that Booker was still in elementary school. The coach allowed Booker to participate in the tryouts, although he left Booker for last. The tryouts ran late and for a moment it seemed like the coach wanted to cut it before Booker’s turn, but then he decided just one more person wouldn’t hurt anyway.

Booker remembers the look on the coach’s face, but even more so he remembers the look on Pascal’s face. Above all things, Pascal enjoyed being right, and he liked being right about how his little brother is a football genius.

Booker got on Pascal’s team, and as a reward, Pascal gave him his first real pair of football cleats—and by real Booker doesn’t mean the Kipsta ones that all the kids have. Pascal gave him a brand spanking new pair of Nike Tiempos, and he told Booker to only wear it for club games and not around the neighborhood. It’s a pair of pure white boots with a yellow swoosh that Booker tried his best to keep clean, although he eventually gave up on that and let the grass stains commemorate how much use he got out of those shoes.

Eventually word got out that there were scouts at the youth club matches and Pascal and Booker both got the invite to try out for the Olympique Marseille academy. They were both put on a probationary shortlist, but eventually, only Booker got in while Pascal didn’t.

That’s where their lives began to diverge. For Booker, the OM staff persuaded his mom to let him live with a host family, closer to the training grounds, and his mom gave her permission. Now that Booker’s old enough, he realizes the club did that because he lived in social housing, and they wanted to move him to a more middle class, “safer” environment.

Booker doesn’t dwell on that time so much, but once in a while some unexplored grief bubbles to the surface, from when he was torn away from his family at the age of 11. The host family was nice but Booker always kept a distance from them, unwilling to get close. From that point on, the demands of the academy oversaw all aspects of his life. He was enrolled in a private school which partnered with the academy. The academy players would attend half-days of normal school, and at midday they are shuttled to the training ground, with catch-up lessons and guided workshops in the evening. He had virtually no free time to himself, with his timetable stretching from 8am to 9pm.

The academy required that all the kids meet minimum academic standards, and he had to take homework seriously. Besides regular school and training, they were coached in nutrition, social media management, and career pathways outside of playing football. The folks at the academy were always realistic about the odds of success—only a small percentage of academy players move to top division football, and a large percentage move on to a diverse range of careers, from physiotherapy to administrative work and other things.

As youth players they were expected to help clean the equipment, a task that Booker enjoyed although he had teammates who were far less enthusiastic about it. His good attitude towards cleaning and helping the support staff with their work earned him a spot in the coach’s good books, even though he never intentionally did it for that purpose. One of his report cards even said: “Sébastien is a thoughtful boy who is eager to please, and he is at his happiest when he is helping someone.” It’s a nice remark that Booker remembers to this day.

Competition at the academy was fierce. It became obvious early on that although the youth players played as a team, they were all in direct competition with each other to progress through ever narrowing criteria to the next level. The club’s youth counselor even advised Booker to be more assertive or risk being stamped out by more vicious peers, but Booker might have failed abjectly in that regard, since he was known as the team crybaby. It was even something of a minor sport amongst his peers to see what could start the waterworks on any given day.

Although he was away from home, Booker frequently kept in touch with his family, primarily through Dani, who would report to him on everything that was going on. Pascal was starting to argue with their mom every day, because he was staying out later and later. He said that he was staying out for work, but their mom worried that it was for less savory things.

The most unnerving messages from Dani were from the year Booker turned 15. She said that strange, threatening messages were arriving in their mailbox, which they couldn’t figure out, but from their mother’s reaction it might have something to do with their dad. It would be really bad if their dad found out their address, and it got Booker so panicked he told the youth counselor at the academy about it, though there wasn’t much the counselor could do.

And then one day, the messages stopped. Dani said the local papers ran a piece which they believe to be about their father, and this man’s death was later ruled as a suicide. All Booker thought was how relieved he felt that he would never have to see his dad ever again.

As if there could never be a peaceful stretch free of family drama in the household, later that year, Pascal was arrested for drug-related offences. Apparently he had been caught selling drugs at a club, and the news nearly broke their mother. By this time Booker was earning a small stipend from the football club, so he asked to move back home to help take care of his mother and sister. The club permitted it, on condition they move to a location deemed acceptable.

At 16 Booker got his first boot deal, and then he was called to the national U-17s, sealing his place as one of the golden eggs of the academy, a player they would be able to push into the first team or sell on to another club for a tidy sum of money.

At 18 he was pushed into the first team, but being at the bottom-most rung of the ladder, there wasn’t much for him to do outside of training, and he hardly got named to the squad for matches, even as a substitute. Without opportunities for actual play, Booker ended up preparing for the Bac to fill the time.

Here’s what Booker hasn’t told anyone outside his family: on the day he collected his Bac certificate he looked at it and shook his head, and told his classmates he was disappointed. The academy made them take a group photo, and it’s one where Booker is standing all the way to the back, holding his certificate in an awkward manner and half of it is obscured by the head of the teammate crouching in front.

The truth is, he got a TB mention, but what is the point of that when he’s a Ligue 1 first teamer?

It is the same year that Pascal got out of prison. Pascal didn’t move back home, even though they asked him to, maybe out of embarrassment. Maybe it was hard for him to face that Booker’s fortunes were on the rise. Pascal moved in with his friends, and rarely saw his family.

Two years later, Booker has a semi-regular starting spot on the team, but then Pascal goes and does something that gets him arrested again, this time making headline news.

_Le frère d'un joueur de l'OM arrêté pour avoir comploté d’assassiner un politicien du RN_

Booker doesn’t even make it to the training field that day—the moment he steps through the gates he’s whisked off to the manager’s office where all the suits wring their hands about what a PR disaster this is. Booker is asked to distance himself from his brother, and he lets the club release a statement about how he hasn’t lived with his brother since he was 11.

The media circus gets even worse when random commenters start questioning Pascal’s “Islamist connections”. Pascal is three quarters white French and one quarter Moroccan Jewish. The discriminatory agenda is so blatant, and for what? Because they grew up in 38 La Viste, 13015 Marseille? And yet these insinuations keep getting reproduced, reinforcing negative stereotypes and images. At the same time, the National Rally assholes continue to instigate hate without repercussions. Booker feels a surge of rage at the media circus and the braying politicians, whose neglect in their jobs result in the real deaths of real life people, versus the hypothetical specter of the death of a racist, fascist politician who just can’t shut the hell up.

_There’s too much controversy. We can’t play you._

The manager tells him they have to sell him. A loan deal is arranged. He gets shipped off to England. He becomes a player in exile. He doesn’t even get national call-ups for the whole season.

It's been years and years since he looked back on this part of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Le frère d'un joueur de l'OM arrêté pour avoir comploté d’assassiner un politicien du RN_ = Brother of OM player arrested for plotting to assassinate a National Rally politician. National Rally, previously National Front, is a far right political party. Pascal deserved so much better they did him so dirty 😠😠😠
> 
> collège = French middle school, for kids 11-15. Pascal is 4 years older than Seba.
> 
> Bac = baccalauréat, a French national academic qualification that students can obtain at the completion of their secondary education (at the end of the lycée) by meeting certain requirements. 
> 
> TB mention = très bien, highest band of grades possible (>16/20). For random trivia, I imagine Booker took the série Économique et Sociale, and his favorite subjects were History and Geography.
> 
> May I point you to a picture of [38 La Viste](https://64.media.tumblr.com/abb5247cac6a4073fd392f8aa881bebf/1f39f6171f16c5dc-9a/s1280x1920/c3df80b5f7422ec7ba6eb05080ae8eee482088d9.jpg) because I think it's so achingly beautiful? If you want to read about 38 La Viste, here is [an account from an actual resident](https://www.koinai.net/vis-ma-ville/la-viste-de-bas-en-haut/article/au-38-j-y-suis-j-y-reste) (in French).
> 
> I have several Pascal-Booker-Dani headcanons that I am not sure will make it into the fic, so I shall list some here: Booker has a variety of soccer cleats since he's sponsored, but he tends to favor the all-white ones (thanks to Pascal), and he has his mom and sister's names (Josephine, Danielle) embroidered on his cleats. Josephine's surname is VERY Sephardic so all their neighbors would have been able to tell, although I have not been able to decide on the exact name. Pascal bears the Tragic Burden of being the oldest sibling in a broken family.


	53. come what may

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are well into May 2027, and the football season is winding down. The Champions League final is typically the last event in the calendar for top flight men's football.

They meet Juventus in the Coppa Italia final and beat them 3-1 at the Stadio Olimpico in Rome. Skifska gets her first trophy with her new team and gets deserved praise in the media, though the Juventus manager is unnecessarily salty in his post-match interview.

The last day of the league arrives—this is a day where all teams play at the same time. AC Milan are league leaders by far, but the battle for 2nd place is on. With 2-0 against Udinese at home, Inter Milan secure the 2nd place spot above Atalanta, which would allow them to skip the qualifiers for next season’s Champions League.

Before the Champions League final, the boss holds her teambuilding workshop, just to refocus hearts and minds, since this is the point where everyone else has half an eye to summer vacation plans. They go around and give brief answers to the boss’s three questions. When it’s his turn, Booker says:

“The reason why I play football today is because of my brother, and it’s been years since I’ve been allowed to acknowledge that.” Some players show a glimmer of recognition ( _Yusuf!_ ) while it bypasses other players entirely. Nevertheless, it’s still a load off his chest.

On to the next point. “As you all know, I have won the Champions League once, with Liverpool, so I will have to admit a few things: I don’t think I can celebrate scoring against them, so please don’t hold it against me if I stay out of goal celebrations. Secondly, please be assured I will show up and do my best. I want to win with this team because I really like you guys.

“For the third question, I don’t think there’s too much of a connection between why I play and why I want to win the CL. I want to keep playing nonetheless. But thanks for hearing me out on this. Finally, we can never, ever let the game get to penalties.”

Some of the other players say they play for love, and they want to win the Champions League because it’s the most prestigious trophy. It’s their childhood goal, and it’s a way of being remembered, even if it doesn’t always hold true. Not every year produces a memorable final, and some years don’t even have memorable winners.

Still, it’s nice to know what makes people tick. Nichi plays football because he hated school. He wants to win the Champions League because he narrowly lost it in 2023. Musa plays football “for the love of the game”. Ortega said a fortune teller told his mom he would be a football star. Lykon plays because it’s fun, and he never expected to get this far.

Fun—yes! _Fun._ The boss seizes on that notion. They must have fun if nothing else. Some people wait their whole lives for this game, and many others never get to this point. Loosen up, don’t let the rival fans get to you, and play the game your way.

At least they’re not playing at Anfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anfield = Liverpool FC's home stadium. Only the Champions League final is played in a neutral stadium, all the other knockout legs are played home and away at each team's respective stadia. For this chapter, you don't need to know what Anfield is like...but...if you're a football person you will know that Anfield is one of the most intimidating grounds to play at because of the sheer willpower of the fans. (This was in the football manifesto of chapter 48.)


	54. in the sky with diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guardian Football reports

**Player of the match: Inter’s #23 Sebastien LeLivre**

Sebastien LeLivre is no prodigal son, for he never looks back. Instead, the enfant terrible of Marseille only returns to prove his detractors wrong.

All eyes were on Copley and his protégé, whom he plucked from obscurity from Aston Villa, although the truth is a little more complicated. LeLivre was a heralded young player in his home country before he was exiled, due to a scandal caused by a wayward brother. At Liverpool, Copley burnished LeLivre’s reputation and gave him respectability through credentials in the form of silverware. 

Some may pitch this as a case of the student surpassing the master, but we must give due credit to manager Andy Skifska. Under her guiding hand, LeLivre has evolved into one of the game’s most complete midfielders. If you are in any doubt, just cast an eye to the Serie A player statistics table, where he is top in assists. 

In 2022 he barely made the cut for the World Cup squad, and after France’s ignominious exit from the tournament, he might have sabotaged himself further by setting some bridges alight. Many still remember his quote disavowing his nationality, swearing allegiance only to his city of origin. The context of this soundbite has often been left out for the sake of eye-catching polemic, but LeLivre was criticizing anti-immigrant and racist sentiment from his fellow citizens in that statement.

Going into the 2026 World Cup as an unfêted player by his countrymen, he quickly proved himself instrumental in France’s run to the final. The comeback would have been complete if not for the unfortunate fracas with Italy’s Captain Nicolò Di Genova, now his club captain. There seems to be almost no winning without a Newtonian counterblow for LeLivre.

He is gifted, but like a diamond in the rough, it takes the work of a master jeweller to bring out the shine. He can be a cerebral player, but has little interest in cultivating that image. As with Alexander the Great cutting the Gordian knot, he has a startling instinct for the most direct route to bisect opposing defenses. 

Beloved by Scouse fans who struggled to pronounce his last name, he now goes by the nickname they have bestowed on him. The Scousers might cry twice as hard tonight, for their loss to the steely Internazionale di Milano was conducted by a player who wore their colors just one year ago.

2026-2027 Men’s UEFA Champions League final

**Liverpool** | **1 - 2** | **Inter Milan** |  |  |  |  |   
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---  
Keane 48’ |  | Lykon 21’ |  |  |  |  |   
|  | Musa 73’ |  |  |  |  | 


	55. all you need is love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> love, love, LOVE!

At the end of the day, standing on this pitch, there is only one other person who feels what he feels. It’s bittersweet, and above all it’s lonely, very lonely.

The boss knows.

It’s different the second time around. It’s not an ascent to the top of the world. You’ve been up there, and you went down, and you decided to go up again. Why? Because you missed the view? But the world looks different now.

Here’s the view: it’s a rain-soaked night, center pitch from the Fußball Arena München for the Champions League, more commonly known as the Allianz Arena. Seating capacity: 75,000 people. On one side of the stadium, fans clad in blue and black are cheering and celebrating. The pitch is so waterlogged it’s almost like a splash pool.

Here’s the sound: You’ll Never Walk Alone, originally from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Carousel. Sung in victory and defeat by supporters of Liverpool Football Club, today’s version is a reaffirmation of pride and loyalty in the face of defeat. When the Kopites sing there is no other sound that can be heard—the soundwaves of this phenomenon is sometimes enough to knock lesser teams into the ground.

The secret is, the song still works for Booker, in a way. The words to the song are irretrievably etched on his heart. He can never tell the fans this; he never wants to break their heart. But such is the nature of the game they play, and if we cycle into the future this song will turn once more into a victory cry.

“Take it easy,” are the boss’s words to him, after the final whistle. It’s a good reminder.

The boss is Andy Skifska, only the sixth manager to win the Champions League with two different clubs. The list of players who have done this must be longer, but Booker didn’t bother to check this one.

The rest of the team—well, they’re over the moon. They explode with joy like bubbles bursting forth from a champagne bottle.

They walk onto the stage, led by the boss, the woman king of European football. They shake a bunch of hands attached to men in suits. They each get a medal, and then they huddle on the stage, many bouncing with anticipation. The trophy sits on a clear acrylic pedestal, decorated with ribbons of black and blue. The captain comes on last. He is handed the trophy, and then, drumroll please, he takes his spot in front of the gathered team, and he hoists the trophy into the air. Confetti explodes around them, the certified biodegradable flakes of black and blue floating to the soggy ground.

Booker smiles, for the first time that night. It’s still one of the best feelings in the world, and then he realizes that he has started to cry. He gets a hug from Lykon, his sharpshooter. He gets hugs from Musa and Ortega, his trusty wingers. He gets hugs from Symanowski, his counterpart in midfield. He gets hugs from Boselli, who always cleans up his messes. And then there’s the backline, Croitoru, Al Kaysani, Di Genova, Borges. Together with goalie Ulatov, who stopped a last minute equalizer, they make Andy’s winning eleven.

Shreds of confetti are still being pumped into the air by the fan machines. It’s photo time, the cameras are a-clicking, and the back four are taking a picture together. The cameraman gives a thumbs-up sign and walks away. For a moment, no longer than a second or two, the captain cups his hands in unadulterated joy around Yusuf’s face and pulls him in for a kiss. Lips on lips, Yusuf’s hands fall off the trophy in surprise—and then Booker’s view is immediately obscured by a flash of neon orange. Booker looks up, and Ulatov in his bright goalie jersey is glaring at him like a warning sign. _Look elsewhere._

Booker gives Ulatov a little nod of acknowledgement, and he goes off to join the rest. Symanowski and Musa have brought their children onto the field, while some of the other kids are running around and playing in the puddles, delighted by the permitted anarchy tonight. Booker waves at them and they wave at him, and it’s a damn lie that men don’t have a biological clock—something in Booker is screaming I WANT BABIES at this moment. He has to look for a childless individual to take his mind off this thought, and he decides to jump Lykon from behind. Lykon is startled and they both trip and fall on the very wet ground, and then Booker laughs so much he cries again. It’s a good thing there’s the rain to wash away his tears.

Lying on the ground, staring at the purple and orange sky framed by the glowing roof of the Allianz Arena, it suddenly strikes Booker that Ulatov, as the goalkeeper, spends all his time looking at Yusuf and Nichi from the back. It’s nice to know he looks out for them outside matches as well.

When the celebrations finally die off, they say their farewells back at the training ground in Appiano Gentile. The transfer window is open once more, and some will stay while some will go. It’s the circle of life in this beautiful game, where nothing lasts, but nothing is lost forever.

Lykon is off to the African Cup of Nations, and everyone wishes him well. Senegal are hot favorites, as they have been for a while, but this might be the year they finally win it.

Booker says goodbye to Yusuf and Nichi, and in his parting hug Yusuf claps him on the back and says, with a low voice so that no one else can hear, “See you at the African Cup of Nations.”

“See you,” Booker replies to his friend, at once both resigned and indignant, and he’s thinking, _fuck you_ , but also, _fuck yes, we have an inside joke._

_we had done it_  
_(for two measures?_  
_four?)—achieved flight,_  
_that swift and serene_  
_magnificence,_  
_before the earth_  
_remembered who we were_  
_and brought us down._

–Rita Dove, American Smooth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"...and in the first of the two AFCON semifinals, we have Tunisia vs Morocco. Tunisia are helmed by Yusuf Al-Kaysani, while Morocco are led by Achraf Hakimi. It is the battle of the fullbacks, but in midfield we also have an interesting matchup between Khaoui and Lelivre..."_ Do you know how long I waited to write that African Cup of Nations joke? ASDdsjaskd I was building up to this since...the 'Disaster Gay' chapter. I'm so glad these two fools don't get to ruin the AFCON. The WC is more than enough. 
> 
> Nicky and Joe's Champions League kiss is...*drumroll please* for the football people....you might already know...based on the one and only [Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso Champions League 2005 kiss](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/RecklessOilyLaughingthrush-mobile.mp4) *UGLY CRY* As if it wasn't obvious from my gushing about Xabi Alonso before but now everyone knows my Forever OTP.
> 
> Timo Ulatov!! He has Joe and Nicky's back. And he never told Olga...he keeps goals and true secrets this one.
> 
> This chapter is so beautiful and that poem by Rita Dove you guys. [You can read it here.](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54773/american-smooth) Rita Dove is the first African American to serve as Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, from 1993 to 1995, amongst many honors.


	56. my baby just cares for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer! Sweet summer! And now we gear up for the 2027 Women’s World Cup, held in the United States of America.

Summer! Sweet summer! And now we gear up for the 2027 Women’s World Cup, held in the United States of America. While Booker’s schedule winds down, Nile’s schedule is ramping right up, all the way up. She has sponsorship deals to honor, and a major hosting gig. She will be the lead host in the coverage of the Women’s World Cup, alongside longtime Premier League pundit Bethany Lowe, who also covered the Men’s World Cup last year.

First off, it’s back to her hometown of Chicago. As a retired player for the USWNT, she has an important ambassadorial role in terms of attracting public attention to the sport. The interest in the USWNT is there, but what’s important is to transform this interest into actual progress—better funding for talent identification programs, better funding for local leagues, growing the supporter base for the long term survival of the domestic women’s league.

It also helps US Soccer’s agenda to highlight that Nile’s early retirement is due to a chronic disease that can hit anyone, and not some occupational hazard, since that sort of narrative would stop some parents from letting their children play football. As such, Nile is scheduled for a series of hospital visits and appearances for chronic disease support groups.

It’s always nice to bring joy to kids in the hospital—it was something Nile did a lot with Barcelona, and here, she’s doing it with some other retired USWNT players, legends in their own right, her role models when she was a kid. Booker insists on shuttling her to all her events since he feels lost and aimless otherwise, so he’s constantly lurking around while she does her thing. It’s hilarious how he’s already been mistaken for her chauffeur and her bodyguard on several occasions. It’s the sloppy cap and sunglasses, Nile teases, but he seems all too happy not to be noticed. _Only in America._

On arrival, the hospital coordinator needs some help and Booker happily volunteers, and when the coordinator asks who he is, he simply says he’s Nile’s personal assistant. He gets whisked off to the carpark to move and sort gift bags for distribution.

Brandi Chastain and Carli Lloyd arrive, and they are taken around the pediatric wards for a visit. The tour concludes with a video interview, where they are asked a series of trivia questions by the kids, and then they have to do some humorous challenges, such as keepie uppies with various sizes of citrus fruit.

The event wraps up, and the hospital staff go around distributing the gift bags from US Soccer. They hand out some of these bags themselves, and then, there he is, her boy, quietly passing more bags along. He takes his time with each kid who approaches him, chatting with them and cracking jokes that make them laugh. Dare she say it—he’s really quite natural with children. For better or worse, Nile feels so much pressure to be a great role model for kids that she can go a little overboard with the rah-rah girl power positivity, but maybe it’s the only option afforded to her as well.

The event concludes and the hospital staff are requesting for photos, and Booker is roped into being the photographer. At some point, Nile hears a nurse remarking “Who’s that guy? He looks kinda cute”, and Nile’s immediate reaction is... _whoa_. It’s way stronger than she would have anticipated. It’s...not a pretty feeling. It’s like a stab from an enemy-in-hiding, the enemy being primitive genetic codes of sexual jealousy. She’s never been more glad she has the ability to hide all her emotions under a well-honed smile.

Nile is held back by more requests from fans who have gathered outside the ward and Booker drifts out of her sight. Distraction overruns her mind while she acquiesces to more selfies and autographs from fans young and old. Eventually, she has to draw the line, and she announces that she’ll have to leave, but takes the opportunity to plug her next public appearance and to hype up the World Cup once more.

She finds a message from Booker, who is waiting for her in the car. She hurries off to the carpark, and he is parked in some obscure corner and dozing off in his seat. “Hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” she says, as he wakes up from his nap. “Thank you for helping out earlier.”

He simply shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Nah it’s fine, it was no trouble at all.” He reaches out to grab the coffee cup he’s stuck in the cup holder, and takes a few sips of the liquid. He notices that she’s looking at him and he offers to share the beverage with her. It’s still warm—so that was what he slipped off to do, after the event.

“Love you,” she says, and leans in for a kiss.

“Where to?” Booker asks. They have some time to kill before dinner.

“Is there anything you really want to do in Chicago that we haven’t planned? Like, I mean anything. Even the silliest thing, like eating a deep dish pizza or something.”

“Oh no no no,” Booker replies with horror. “Not that. I can’t. And right before dinner? No way.”

Nile laughs. Okay, yeah. She made Booker try a Chicago dog and he was really unimpressed. He might die from having a deep dish pizza. He was okay with the Garrett popcorn and he loved the apple fritters, but he can’t have too much of those. He also loves tacos, but the smokehouses are too meaty for him and his favorite meal so far has been at an Ethiopian restaurant. “Really nothing?” she prompts again.

“I don’t know. Is there anything we can do, that doesn’t involve food or crowded places?”

“We could walk around a park maybe,” Nile says. “Oh! Or, how about we go to a museum? The Art Institute is really nice. l used to go there all the time to look at the Monets and the Van Goghs.”

There is a line to get in, and for a while they are okay waiting, but then someone recognizes Nile and then for some reason the other people in line think it’s okay to swarm her because they all want a photo of this celebrity (and yet they didn’t care before someone else recognized her...). Booker’s back to photographer duty but he also mouths to her at one point _I think we should run_ , and then, with a deep breath to steady herself, Nile once again claims that she’s running late for some other appointment and has to go. Booker morphs into bodyguard mode and starts blocking people off, and the crowd begins to disperse.

“Oh my god,” Nile says, when they’ve fled across the road from the Art Institute. “I’m so sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine,” Booker says, shrugging once more. “Actually, why don’t you take this instead?” He pulls off his cap and plants it on her head. “You should take my sunglasses too. You’re the one who needs it here.”

“Right,” Nile says. She should really do the cap-sunglasses-facemask thing that Booker does but also, she’s Black and people get so antsy about Black people with obscured features it’s ridiculous. But maybe, since Booker’s tagging along, he can lend enough white privilege to smooth out everything and ugh, it’s these lowkey annoyances that just wear her down. It’s more pain to complain about than to just suck it up, but sucking it up causes no small angst all the same. “So what’s plan B?” she throws the question to her partner, feeling so done.

“Um, we can just sit here I guess. It’s nice. Nice weather, good day out.”

 _Me? Just sit? You’re asking me to sit still?_ Nile almost wants to scream, but she catches herself. None of this is Booker’s fault. He’s visiting her city. She should be the one coming up with suggestions on where to go. Nile clenches and unclenches her fist. “There’s a rooftop garden at the top of City Hall. We can try going there.”

“Oh, okay,” Booker says, blinking at her. “W-which way is it?”

 _It’s this way_ , Nile is about to say, but then she notices the way Booker is looking at her and. Wait. She slips her hand into his. “Hey, you know I’m not angry with you, right?”

“I know,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says softly.

“That’s true,” Nile says, and then she pulls him into a hug for comfort.

“I love you.” The words sound like a plea, as he clings tightly on to her.

“I love you too.”

You know what, he is right. It’s a beautiful day out. It’s okay to just stand here with nothing to do, just soaking in the atmosphere. She doesn’t have to chase after every crazy thought and impulse that crosses her brain just because she needs something to do.

She can just breathe.

Or.

You know what’s a really crazy thing you can do at City Hall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH I just remembered: [this is the song you wanna have playing...at the end of this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dElRVQFqj-k) LOL


	57. song of songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you

It’s 15 minutes to closing time and Nile Freeman bursts into City Hall demanding, “Where do I get married?”

Some passersby give them weird stares, and Booker wants to bury his face in his hands and he thinks, _why did I say yes_.

There is a kind security guard, an elderly Black man, who tells them to go around the building to the opposite side and through the entrance for the Cook County Clerk’s office. “Do you have a license? You can’t just get married straightaway. You have to apply for a license, and then come back on a different day to get married at the courthouse,” he says. “Could be as early as tomorrow, if you’re in a hurry.”

For the license application, both parties have to present ID. It’s a good thing Booker always carries his passport on his person when he travels. But how did he get talked by his girlfriend into this again?

Actually, there wasn't much talking. There they were, just hugging in the streets, and then Nile looked at him and said, “I have a really crazy idea.”

And of course Booker had to go, “What is it?”

And Nile goes, “Do you want to get married?”

And Booker goes, “Why not? Sounds fun haha.”

They did NOT think this through. And now they’re at dinner, at one of the fanciest restaurants in Chicago. It’s a good thing they don’t have to choose the food in this place, but instead of enjoying their aperitifs they are stress-drinking and frantically googling away on the fine print of getting married.

“We can still back out,” Nile says, looking at her phone. They’ve only applied for a marriage license. They’re not married yet. The license simply gives you 60 days to get married. If you don’t, it expires and you can just pay the fee to get a new one again, when you’re ready for the actual marriage.

Are they supposed to talk to anyone about this? It feels like the kind of thing Booker should consult his lawyer on. Booker should let his family know about it too. They’re in France! Will they want to attend the ceremony?

Is it real? Is this happening? The World Cup starts on Saturday. Nile will be busy for a whole month, and then Booker is off for pre-season friendlies. It’s a couple of months before they return to Milan, where their schedules are more predictable.

It is a Wednesday. They can get married as early as tomorrow. Tomorrow might be the only available time anyway. Nile has a soccer clinic in the morning, but she’s free in the afternoon. And then they have a dinner reservation with Mrs Freeman and Antoine. Most of Friday will be taken up by travel and settling into Los Angeles, where Nile will be based for her studio coverage of the Women’s World Cup.

And—if they’re really getting married, how do they want their wedding ceremony to go? Booker frets over these questions to Nile.

 _Good point._ You don’t actually need witnesses for getting married at the Cook County Marriage and Civil Union Court, but Nile did always imagine that her family would be there.

Nile thinks of weddings with a mixture of disgust and fascination. She never liked the overplanned and micromanaged excesses, the froufrou white dress, tiered cakes and overt displays of sentimentality, but she adores the vintage-style weddings, the ones held in a backyard or the living room, where the couple is dressed in nice clothes, but not wasteful single-occasion outfits, and they’re surrounded by a small group of those closest to them.

A courthouse wedding perfectly suits her. Simple and unfussy, and a very direct approach. There’s a touch of vintage glamour to the whole concept as well. There’s no need to have guests for this one, since it’s just for the both of them, and if they want, they can hold a reception at a later date, at any venue in the world. Nile has lowkey dreamed of getting married in a suit as well, and the whole thing is starting to sound disturbingly plausible, on the verge of reality.

 _I’m down if you’re down,_ and they look at each other and _yes, let’s do it_. They fire off messages to their respective families, Booker to his mother and Dani, Nile to her mother and Antoine. It’s 2am in France and Booker is unlikely to get a reply for some time.

Antoine replies nearly instantly: _DAFUQ??? But ok congrats lol_

The sommelier comes by and, at their suggestion, Booker orders a Jacques Selosse “Substance” champagne for this occasion.

The food is—the food comes in minuscule bites with specific instructions on the order and method of consumption, served on extremely niche and custom-made wares. There are mouthblown glass conches instead of bowls, tree bark instead of plates. The food is never what it appears, and it takes longer to hear the waitstaff explain the food than to gobble it up. Nile very clearly loves this sort of thing while the highfalutin concept kind of flies by Booker’s head, but whatever makes her happy makes him happy. Booker simply appreciates that the sommelier has made an excellent suggestion and he goes through most of dinner buoyed by the bubbly. At the end of the night, he asks to keep the bottle, and it’s hilarious how he did it with a Donald Duck voice, because dessert is helium-filled edible balloons.

Nile’s mom asks to talk to her after dinner, and they’re outside the restaurant and pretty drunk and Nile has her mom on speakerphone and they’re both spouting complete nonsense in the most cartoonish voices and laughing like hyenas. They might be making complete fools out of themselves. Mrs Freeman could have put her foot down and stopped the whole crazy affair but she doesn’t. Instead she’s asking Nile on what she needs for the wedding, and they’re discussing outfits and photographers, rings and wedding vows, and Nile is saying she doesn’t need anything, but Mrs Freeman says they absolutely _must_ find a photographer and then they decide that it’s a good idea if Nile spends the night with her mom so they can work out all these details.

Booker calls a private-hire car and hops in with Nile to see that she gets to Mrs Freeman safely, and then the driver makes his way back downtown to drop him off at the hotel. Instead of going back to his room, he decides to take a walk to calm down. Oh my god, he realizes, as his senses begin to kick in. By the end of the next day he might be a married man. The idea is starting to give him panic attacks, and he might have thrown up in the Chicago River. He might be a mess. He might have no idea what he’s doing at all. He’s starting to feel guilty for no good reason, and so he gives all the cash he has on him to the homeless people he sees on his walk and then goes to the ATM and does another round.

Close to midnight, he gets a reply from his mom, and he sprints back to his hotel room to call her. He might have cried to his mom, who tells him that everything is going to be okay and she’ll make time in the evening so he can put her on video call during the ceremony.

There might have been a crack in his mom’s voice when she tells him not to worry if the whole thing is a big mistake. You’re allowed to walk away at any time. You don’t have to wait for things to be bad to walk away. Humans are always going to think, it’s not so bad yet, and that’s when worse things are allowed to happen.

When Booker ends the call with his mom he cries for real, with good, hearty, demon-exorcising, body-racking sobs. By this time Dani is awake and he calls her too, and since she is a professional beautician she tells him off for crying before a big day and she tells him to go put some chilled teabags on his puffy eyes and to do it again in the morning after he wakes up.

Booker doesn’t know how, but at some point in the night he manages to fall asleep, and when he wakes Antoine is on his way to meet him. Mrs Freeman has dispatched Antoine to help Booker with two tasks: find a photographer for the afternoon, and buy some rings.

They reach out to a bunch of photographers on Instagram and it surprises Booker that he gets more than one reply at such a late notice. There are two photographers to choose from, and it takes Booker a painful hour to decide but he eventually settles on one. They head out to buy the rings, and this one is a little less agonizing—Booker has an idea of what he wants, which is a classic thin platinum band, and he gets a similarly understated matching band for Nile.

Antoine leaves him at lunchtime to pick up his mother and sister, and Booker goes back to the hotel room to wash up and get changed. He brought only one suit for this trip, just in case, and oddly enough, it’s the same one he wore on their first date.

It’s only after he’s all spruced up and left the hotel that he realizes he’s forgotten to eat the whole day, and he’s ravenous. He looks around for a quick bite and he sees a Vietnamese place where there’s bánh mì on the menu and that settles it.

He orders a honey grilled chicken bánh mì and takes it to the park to eat. It’s another perfect summer day in the city. He watches children play while he sits on a bench, with his lunch of a perfectly crisp and fluffy baguette balanced with sweet protein and the bright tang of pickled carrot and radish.

It’s such a beautiful day out, and some random guy on a run asks if he’s a movie star. Booker shakes his head in reply. _Fuck, I must look like such a knob in the suit and sunglasses._ Doubt and panic begin to set in again. He is terrified that he will lose the rings and he has one hand constantly in his pocket. People keep looking at him with not-so-discreet double takes.

The Freemans are on their way, and he meets them at the courthouse, where they join the line. Waiting to get married at the courthouse is the most wonderfully democratic experience and Booker highly recommends it. There are all sorts of people here, young and old, of all races and genders. Everyone smiles at everyone, the guests and the to-be-weds. There’s some sort of tacit solidarity shared by everyone waiting in the hallway, the kindness of strangers diffusing the tension between nervousness and excitement. There are worried young couples with babies in tow, and there are serene old couples happy to find companionship at this stage of life. There is the lesbian couple with a large group of friends and all sorts of props for various photoshoots that they stage while waiting their turn. There is the gay couple with the cutest pair of dogs, and for a moment Booker wishes they could have Webster and Effie in person. They’re with his mom so he’ll see them on the call.

The photographer arrives, and she asks for a rundown of the ceremony, to anticipate the best moments for photos. The judge will say something, and then Mrs Freeman will say something, and then he and Nile will exchange rings with a simple one liner vow. They’ll go outside to take more photos by the sign that says City Hall, and then they’ll walk to the park for a mini photoshoot. He’s brought an iPad, through which they’ll FaceTime his mom and Dani.

They make conversation with the other groups in the hall, and someone asks which two of them are getting married. There are three of them in suits and only one in a dress. Nile’s suit is a bright marigold yellow, which is stunning against her cool, dark skin. She has a wide-brimmed straw hat, which she isn’t wearing indoors. Antoine’s dressed really sharply too, in a light gray suit with a subtle windowpane pattern. Only Mrs Freeman is in a wrap dress of rich garnet red. The good-natured question amuses Nile to no end, and Booker can sense that she’s toying with the idea of suggesting the wrong answer just for fun. She ends up giving the real answer. I’m marrying this one, she says, putting a hand on his arm. They get congratulated, and they congratulate others.

Perhaps to highlight Booker’s status as her blushing groom, Nile draws a pink rose out from her bouquet and she tucks it behind his ear. She gives him some faux-patronizing pats on the head. “You can be really pretty,” she says to him, evidently pleased with herself.

Fearing that his hair is ruined Booker draws out his phone to check his appearance with the front camera.

“Your hair is fine,” Nile reassures, and he gives her a brief, petulant pout. They dial in his mom and Dani early, and they give them a little tour of Chicago City Hall. Some random person approaches Nile to ask if she is Nile Freeman, and she simply replies, “I’ve been told I look like her on many occasions.”

Finally, it is their turn. They enter a room that looks like a dated office, with stale cream walls and a suspended tileboard ceiling with fluorescent lights evenly spaced in the grid.

The judge says her words. Mrs Freeman reads an excerpt from Toni Morrison.

Antoine hands Nile and Booker the rings, and they put it on for each other.

They say their vow, and then they kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this is a long one.
> 
> *deep breath* *internal screaming* Ok let's start with Booker ordering a $600+ bottle of champagne (if it's $600 retail it might be $1000+ with a restaurant markup) but seriously you get way better value than your $1000 Krug (not that I've tried but...I have...some education with wine...)
> 
> Booker and Nile went to Alinea in Chicago! Which I have never been to, neither the city nor Alinea, but I have Netflix to thank for my knowledge about the fine dining scene. The helium balloons are a real thing they sound so fun??
> 
> Also ok Booker when everyone kept doing double takes it's cos YOU'RE HOT you're wearing a suit and sunglasses you look like a movie star
> 
> I am also obsessive enough to try and look for reference photos for how you should visualize Nile's outfit, I think [Tika Sumpter's outfit for the ABC panel](http://www.talkingwithtami.com/wardrobe-breakdown-tika-sumpter-at-abcs-leading-women-wing-panel/) is a very close example to what I have in mind. Add to this outfit the [Jacquemus Santon hat](https://www.luxe-provence.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/jacquemus-south-of-france-design-940x491.jpg). 
> 
> Ok since I'm going off you can have a [visual reference for Antoine](https://www.brooksbrothers.com/Windowpane-Wool-Blend-Double-Breasted-Suit/RK00163,default,pd.html) too. And Booker pls [stop recycling your World Cup suits](https://www.sportbuzzbusiness.fr/smalto-costume-officiel-des-bleus-champions-du-monde-2018-equipe-france-defile-champs-elysees.html). Also Mrs Freeman wears something that [looks like this I guess](https://www.brownsfashion.com/shopping/zimmermann-silk-wrap-midi-dress-15350591). Maybe I should just make an aesthetic tumblr post with the outfits LOL.
> 
> In the next episode...we will get Nile POV...bc I left the best details of the wedding for Nile POV, and then maybe I'll write an essay as long as the chapter itself on their wedding BECAUSE I AM OBSESSED


	58. ani l'dodi v'dodi li

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this place there are no strangers, each person a blessing in kind.

_‘Love is divine only and difficult always. If you think it is easy you are a fool. If you think it is natural you are blind. It is a learned application without reason or motive except that it is God.’_

_May this marriage be blessed with the divine Love. Amen._

It’s short and sweet, but it’s what she always wanted her mom to say at her wedding.

Antoine hands them the rings. Nile takes Booker’s hand and slips the ring onto his finger. He does the same for her.

_I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine._

They kiss.

The kiss is tinged with a hint of salt, and when Nile opens her eyes her boy has tears streaming down his face. She wipes away his tears with the pad of her thumbs, and he smiles at her with a smile so soft it cuts right through to her tender, aching heart.

He is more than Nile ever asked for, and oh what a challenge it has been to grow into this love. May the two of them keep growing.

When they leave the courtroom, the people waiting in line cheer for them, as they cheered for those who were before them in line. They run through a tunnel of makeshift arms and in this place there are no strangers, each person a blessing in kind.

They step back out into the sun-drenched, radiant world. Heat rises visibly off the roads in a mirage and the humidity is cloying. The Windy City has no air in the stifling summer and the skyscrapers cast no shadows at midday. The city is busy, oblivious, and every single thing feels dizzyingly alive.

The photographer takes some artistic shots using Nile’s straw hat as a prop to create visual interest. Nile might also have to concede that Booker is actually the better model in this situation. Years of filming for sponsor deals have made her a little too power-posey in front of cameras. Occupational hazard, maybe.

They take some romantic pictures in Grant Park, amongst the trees, by Buckingham Fountain, and they take some group snapshots with her mom and Antoine. Their time with the photographer is up, and she’ll process the photos and present a shortlist for their choosing. She’ll give them digital copies of the final versions, and if they want to print it, she can help with that too. They pay extra to buy over the image rights, compensating the photographer for taking their photos out of her portfolio.

With the photographer gone, they stroll around the park for fun, and Booker asks Nile if she’s ever dreamed of doing some sort of more elaborate engagement photoshoot.

“No, not really,” Nile replies, but then she remembers something. She checks that her mom and brother are all out of earshot. “But haha ok I have this...um...ongoing fantasy…”

“What,” Booker looks at her like he can’t decide if he wants to continue hearing this.

“It’s er...well in this fantasy you’re some kind of Provençal farmboy, and I am just a tourist and my car has broken down, and you have to help me because there is no one else…”

“Uhh…” Booker says, but lets her continue.

“Anyway the main bulk of this fantasy is a series of frolics and cavorts through the lavender fields of Provence…”

“Naked or clothed?” Booker asks.

“I’ll leave that to your imagination. But you know, we could maybe have a cute little photoshoot in the lavender fields. I’ve always wanted to see those.”

“We can do that in July I guess, after the World Cup. My mom and Dani really want to meet you in person. Probably even more so now that we’re married.”

“Oh yeah. Did we really just do that?” Not to be self-congratulatory or anything, but, _snap_ , sometimes Nile just Makes Things Happen.

“If we don’t consummate our marriage, we can always get it annulled,” Booker says, pursing his lips.

“Hm, yes,” Nile replies, and she’s trying not to burst into laughter. “We can...try our best...not to...engage in conjugal relations…”

“How long do you think that will last?”

“Hm,” Nile says, and you know, if it weren’t for a) her mom and brother hanging around b) the fact that they’re in a public area right now… “My guess is shortly after dinner.”

It gets a smile out of her boy. He doesn’t laugh very often, and when he does it’s not very audible, but you can see the tremble in his shoulders and sometimes you can hear the little exhales. It’s quite the opposite of Nile, who has been told that she literally _cackles_ and that people a few doors over can hear her laugh.

Dinner is at an achingly hip restaurant where everything is meant to be shared. The food is New American, American in the sense that it’s string beans with cashews drizzled with aioli and fish sauce. It’s escargot in ravioli with bacon tamarind sauce. It’s goat liver pate and crumpets. It’s duck tartare with gochujang mayo. It sounds like a mess of cultures but it works when the conditions are right. Booker is so in love with the string beans they have to order a second plate. Nile isn’t even sure if he bothered to try the signature dish, made from the meat off a pig’s face.

After dinner they say goodbye to her mom and Antoine. If Nile were playing they would have flown in to watch her matches, but since she is working as a match analyst, they’ll tune in from home to watch her on television.

Back in the hotel room, Booker is splayed on the bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other hand holding up his phone.

“Whatchu looking at?” Nile says, slinking up against her newly-acquired spouse. She peeks at his phone, and he’s looking up the recipe for the string beans from dinner.

“Gonna send this to Enzo,” Booker says. “It was just so good.”

“Mm,” Nile murmurs agreeably. The way Booker is lying on the bed, head resting on a bent arm and with a leg propped up on the bent knee of the other leg, he could be some sort of farmhand, shirtless in denim overalls, resting on a bed of hay on a farm in Provence…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooboy ok here we goooo:
> 
>  _Love is divine only and difficult always_ by the incomparable Toni Morrison, whose writing has so much life-giving force...like...her writing is like why I write...though I be a mere fanfic writer and she is one of the giants of American Literature. The passage that Mrs Freeman quotes is part of [a much longer passage from Paradise](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/153685-let-me-tell-you-about-love-that-silly-word-you), which I think is required reading for anyone who wants to fall in love or get married or anything like that. FTR, I am not Black (nor am I white) but I am very committed to featuring Black figures in this fanfic (almost all my reference points like the artists, the quotes etc are a very conscious effort) because...it really matters when you write Black characters but also like, have you seen the referenced works it's all seriously good stuff that deserves attention this is a plea to fandom to diversify and decolonialize your sources of inspiration.
> 
> ani l'dodi v'dodi li = אני לדודי ודודי לי = I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine, from Song of Songs 6:3
> 
> I adooooooore that Booker and Nile have just completely dispensed with promise vows (for better, for worse, in sickness and in health) and make a simple "is" statement, like, this IS what they are now and...that's it. They'll just deal with things when they happen. Promise vows can be sooo fraught and anyway down with overdone heteronormative (& Christian) marriage rites I like that their ceremony hints at/still stays respectful of Nile's religion while also being tolerably secular (for Booker) but also...with a cute little line borrowed from King Solomon akskjkdaslkjdsa...I think this is such an incredible ceremony it's everything I would want for myself lolol.
> 
> Ok next, I'm inordinately proud of the line "in this place there are no strangers, each person a blessing in kind" I think it slaps???? How did my brain write that??? Did I plagiarize it??? I sure hope not lol idk where it came from. But I love that line so much I wanna get it tattooed now. That line is everything in terms of what I hope to express in life...a humanistic outlook uggghhh it's such a good line it sounds like it should come from a poem (maybe because of the octometer????)
> 
> Thanks to tumblr user rhipidurafan for suggesting the restaurant in this chapter, it's Stephanie Izard's [Girl and the Goat](https://girlandthegoat.com/). I am indebted to the food bloggers out there who detail their culinary experiences (and with photos!!) so that I could write the restaurant scenes in this fic. I might go try making [those green beans](https://stephanieizard.com/recipes/magic_beans/) (or as Booker might say, haricots verts) 
> 
> I hope my notes are not too much lololol wedding's over party's over daily life resumes in the next chapter!!


	59. la la land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in LA, almost one year later!

They land in Los Angeles, and while they are stuck in traffic from the airport to their rental house, Booker gets yelled at by his lawyer for the extremely unpremeditated marriage.

Apparently French nationals have to apply for governmental permission to marry and there has to be a public notice for at least ten days before the ceremony, and because Booker doesn’t reside in France, this notice has to go up in the French Consulate in Milan, since that is closest to his current residence, so that the public may object if they have any valid grounds to. At the consular officer’s discretion, Nile and Booker could also be subject to interviews if their marriage is deemed suspicious.

Anyway, Booker’s lawyer finally concludes, the French government is required to recognize their marriage, since it is legally binding in the US, and this involves a convoluted administrative process that can take months.

Nile has never heard a more colorful tirade directed at French bureaucracy than the one she hears from Booker that day. On the bright side, at the end of this pain, they’ll get a cute little booklet, the livret de famille, where the birth of any children will be registered. On this point, Booker gets all fidgety, and he’s crossing and uncrossing his arms and bouncing a leg up and down and then he suddenly leans in very close, chin latching onto her shoulder, and he bats his eyelashes at her, causing her posture to stiffen up, nervous with anticipation.

“I wonder...I wonder if I can take your surname?”

Nile’s brain might have exploded. As she picks up the pieces of her scattered mind she has So. Many. Questions. Why the fuck is marriage such an administrative nightmare? Why is she having such a major reaction? Why has she been conditioned to find Booker’s question so improbable? Why is she even questioning whether she has the authority to give her own name to someone else?

“Weeeellllll,” Nile draws out, deflecting the question. “How does that work with your favorite bureaucrats?”

“Oh, it’s possible. It’s a nightmare to make a legal surname change, but on getting married I can apply to use yours. It’s called the nom d’usage. It doesn’t change the name on my birth certificate, but it will be recognized administratively.”

“You looked it up.” Nile is mildly surprised at the level of homework Booker’s done for such a casually asked question.

“A long time ago, yes. Dani and I wondered if we could get rid of our dad’s name and use our mom’s, but that’s considered a sentimental reason and not valid grounds for the court to grant a change.”

_Oh._

But! Nile has never thought about sharing her name with anyone! Ever! She’ll need some time to get used to the idea. And she wishes it didn’t feel this way, but it feels like a huge flex. It kind of makes her want to laugh, nay, cackle, in that signature way of hers. She wishes she understood why this feels like a power move. She wishes she understood why the idea is starting to sound awfully enjoyable.

She closes her eyes, trying to get a grip. Thanks to her job, she has a private driver to ferry her everywhere in this city of endless looping freeways. At this moment she is stuck in traffic, in the backseat of the car, next to her newly-wedded spouse, whom she calls by a nickname given to him by fans of his former club in the northwest of England. He was not permitted to use this name on his jersey, since there is no precedence when he went to the Premier League, so he wears SÉBASTIEN 23 when he plays, since he was SÉBASTIEN 47 at OM. What if...that changes to FREEMAN 23?

 _Hold up, hold up._ They haven’t even told the world they’re dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little one for today, please exercise caution before doing anything with your French person lol. Also...it occurred to me that if we translate livret (de famille) as "booklet"...are Booker's kids technically Booklets???? I can never get over this now I'm just imagining little booklets running all over the place.
> 
> Booker's shirt number is 23 for no reason other than I like the combination, but bc I headcanon him as a Pisces guy I decided to give him the birthday of 2/3 (March 2nd for Americans). Nile is a very strong Aries girl with a lot of Taurus overtones...but they're gonna make it work. Nile's shirt number was 7. Lykon is 9, both him and Nile have typically forward numbers. Nichi is 2 and Yusuf is 6, these are typically defender numbers.
> 
> Wishing all of you a happy and healthy new year! Thank you for sticking out with this fic.


	60. off-track

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Booker and Nile settle into the rental house in LA.

They settle into the rental house in LA. Booker is headed off to grab his rental car, and then he has plans to see his friend who plays for the NBA. Who knew that he is online friends with the Clippers’ point guard, Kevin Soulier? On the other hand, they’re both from Marseille so it shouldn’t be that surprising.

Nile has dinner planned with Team USA. The two of them have agreed to withhold information about their marriage for now, but they will say that they are seeing each other, only when asked, and only in private situations. They will also provide a caveat that this is non-public information, and trust their friends to keep it private. They’ve agreed that they’re not going to be upset about having to leave the wedding bands at home. It’s such a silly thing to get angry over a material symbol when trust is more important.

Dinner with Team USA does not go the way Nile expected it to. She did tell Booker that the new captain is her ex, but she also did say it’s been three years since that relationship ended, and they have moved on to the occasional well-wishes on birthdays and holidays. That went alright. They just...keep a healthy distance.

What truly sucks is how starkly Nile is reminded that she’s not part of this team anymore. The oldest player in the squad this year is 36, and that means a fit and healthy Nile could’ve had 10 more years of playing in her.

It fucking sucks to see her former teammates still be a team, and that they’re plotting what they’ll do for celebrations, but they’re also talking about very real fears of not being able to live up to expectations—and for the first time since her retirement Nile feels like she’s _lost_. Like lost-lost.

She went off track. She’s no longer in the game. What she’s doing, as a TV presenter, some person who just goes blah blah blah about games, it feels like a consolation prize for not being able to play. And by god, she feels so sore about it. She left the game too early. She can’t stand the thought of her team playing without her.

At the end of the night, she wants to sulk to Booker about it, but Booker is so happy and excited about his first day as a real tourist in Los Angeles she lets him babble on. He is going off on how much he likes the food here, and that he played basketball with Kevin and his kids at their house, and Kevin’s going to take him to some must-try sushi spot, and Kevin asked if he was seeing anyone so he told him the truth, and Kevin said, _whoa, Nile Freeman? She’s such a babe_ , and Booker is totally gloating about it and Nile just wants to scream, _what does it matter if I’m hot? I want to be known as a great player. I had the potential to be a great player. Now I’m just a has-been and everyone talks about me in the past tense like I’ve departed from this earth._

Instead, she just bursts into tears in Booker’s arms, and she might have said her thoughts out loud or she might have not—but she’s an incoherent mess and is it selfish of her to resent Booker’s happiness? She resents that he’s a player in his prime while she’s treated like expired goods or some aged veteran when she’s only 26.

Booker is so frightened by her tears he starts crying as well and it makes Nile feel guilty, and it makes her resent him a little more, and at the end of the night she wonders if this is the curse of marriage. That’s...not what she wants at all.

“Hey,” she says, gathering whatever composure she can to make the effort. “Do you know why I’m upset?”

Booker nods tearily, then shakes his head.

“I’m upset at myself,” Nile explains. “I’m upset that I had to quit the game early. I’m upset because I feel useless. I’m upset because I’m jealous of my former teammates when I should be supporting them.”

Booker meekly tilts his face up to look at her. She reaches a hand out to push away the strands of hair that have fallen over his eyes. “I’m glad you had fun today,” she continues. It’s important to separate their experiences, so that Booker doesn’t think he’s getting penalized for having fun on his own. “I want to hear about how your day went. I just—sometimes when I get upset, I need you to be strong for me. Do you—do you think that’s something you can do?”

Booker nods, biting his lower lip.

“That means that when I’m having a bad day, I want you to tell me it will all be okay.”

Booker folds her into a hug, skin against skin, and he’s pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “It-It’ll all be okay,” he says, shakily.

Nile feels better already. “Thank you,” she says, hugging him with an extra squeeze.

“No no, thank you,” her boy replies. “Thank you for spelling it out for me. I can be an huge fool sometimes.”

 _A huge fool_ , Nile thinks, but her very own fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't express how much delight I feel at Booker saying "an huge fool" I can hear the French accent so vividly in my mind.
> 
> Kevin is regarded as a trashy name in France, but it was very popular beginning in the 90s. Kevin Soulier (invented name) sounds...very, very much like a guy Booker would be friends with.


	61. on est en finale

Team USA win their opening match against Iceland, but barely. To their credit, Iceland played very strategically, making up for what they lack in squad depth with clever tactics. However, Iceland’s national team have also made huge strides from where they were four years ago.

In fact, the level of the women’s game has made considerable progress. From watching the opening day matches, it strikes Nile that Team USA is going to have a much harder battle despite being the incumbent champions of the past three World Cups.

It’s a good thing for the sport. Not to mention that the rest of the world probably wants to see the United States being taken down a notch. However, the popularity of the game in her home country is predicated on the success of the women’s team. American audiences would find it extremely difficult to watch their team being defeated on home soil, and yet, for the good of the game, it’s brilliant that the level of competition has increased so dramatically.

France are in the group of death, with Spain, China and Brazil. Booker and Kevin attend France’s opening match and are caught on camera supporting their compatriots. As a result, they get interviewed by French media, and it is at work that Nile finds out from her colleagues that Booker literally told French news that he thinks they’re going to win the World Cup. France ends up losing their opening match to China 2-0. She questions Booker about this, and with a hapless shrug, he claims that he’s simply being encouraging.

France barely makes it out of the group stage, and they do so only because of Fair Play Points as tiebreakers nudging them above Spain in the table. Some of Nile’s former teammates from Barcelona play for the Spanish team, and she has to exile Booker to a separate room that night. It causes too much cognitive dissonance to hear him celebrating joyfully on the phone with his mother and sister while she is busy sending off sympathetic messages to her former teammates.

Apparently Booker’s boss has been catching the World Cup matches on the east coast, but now her wife wants to follow the French team around for the knockout rounds. Booker and Kevin are interested in doing the same, and then for whatever reason a motley crew of French expats begins to form. Quynh knows a bunch of entrepreneurs/editors/directors/chichi-sounding people and then Booker is suddenly being invited to all these snobby dinner parties where, as he describes it, the food is invariably sushi, and never French. Also, at some point in the night, it always devolves into a bunch of French people yelling at other French people using hyper-specific terminology that someone else has to explain. Sometimes a person is so unpopular they get pelted with bread rolls. (There are also always bread rolls despite the sushi??) Nile understands maybe 10% of what Booker is talking about but in her assessment, he seems to be having a good time even if (or maybe because) he’s always complaining about some asshole at the dinner party. Nile’s assessment is based on the fact that he’s gone off to buy several more suits so that he doesn’t commit the faux pas of being caught in the same outfit days in a row.

France beats Mexico 7-0 in the Round of 16, and Nile learns that the French are truly obnoxious when they want to be, when she returns from work to a completely trashed rental home from whatever party Booker was hosting before. Cars are double-parked on their driveway, abandoned by owners who have called for a ride home and will return to pick them up the next day. There are strangers skinny dipping in their pool, and Nile is flirted with by some guy who claims he is looking to “cast an actress just like her”. She finds Booker gesturing wildly and talking at top volume to Kevin Soulier, and she makes them throw out all the guests so she can go to bed.

France beats Sweden 4-2 in the quarterfinals, and some interviewer asks Booker if he would ever date a female soccer player, and he hurls a flurry of juicy insults at the interviewer for asking such an inappropriate question. The clip is aired on French news and a female presenter stands up to applaud him, but then it sparks an online comment war of “how about if we give 0 fucks what men think”, which, you know, there’s a point there.

France goes on to meet Germany in the semifinals, and when Booker is asked if he has any advice for the team before the match, he says that people should stop asking him for hot takes. He gets pressed again by the interviewer and he caves, eventually saying, “Can’t you all see that the team is doing exactly what they need to do, which is the opposite of what I did?” 

At the MetLife stadium in New Jersey, France eventually beats Germany 4-3 on penalties after a 2-2 draw. They progress to meet Team USA in the final. It’s hard to underscore how, of all the unimportant things, football is the most important, and how much it feels like Nile is being toyed with by the devil, or fate, or whatever entity is hell-bent on stress-testing their marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not usually inclined to quote the Pope, but John Paul II, who trained as a goalkeeper in his youth, has a really good one on football: "Amongst all unimportant subjects, football is by far the most important." 
> 
> On est en finale = we're in the final. It's a popular French sporting chant...when you get into the finals. [This is how it sounds like.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-D8KV04_Co)


	62. liberté, égalité?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile pulls a Booker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> -sexism in sports  
> -pay inequity due to gender gap  
> -gender dysphoria  
> -trans issues in sports

> In England, the country that invented the modern game of soccer, women were effectively banned by the English federation until 1971. In Brazil—another famous soccer country known for producing Pelé, one of the greatest players in the history of the sport—it was illegal for women to play soccer until 1979. In Germany, women were finally allowed to player soccer in 1970, and even then, they were required to play shorter games, just 60 minutes instead of 90, and with a lighter ball.
> 
> -The National Team: The Inside Story of the Women Who Changed Soccer by Caitlin Murray
> 
> In the United States, Title IX became law in 1972, a mere 37 words in one sentence: “No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.”

Nile is asked about her thoughts on the women’s game, and she might have blown everything apart by saying she thinks people should start considering letting teams be mixed gender.

 _Are you...really doing this just days before the Women’s World Cup final? After everything we’ve fought so hard to achieve?_ The studio director is looking at her like she wants to fire Nile on the spot.

“I’m not saying we have to do this now,” Nile tries to salvage. “What I’m saying is, if we want the game to be inclusive, we should start by letting kids play together regardless of gender. The women’s game started because women were excluded from the men’s game. It has been a safe space for women to push the boundaries of female athleticism, but this can’t be the end point. We need to start recognizing that gender is not a binary, and the only inclusive way to do that is to have everyone play together. The Olympics has guidelines on trans athletes now, and allows for self-identification—and for individual sports the debate on what’s a level playing field is one that needs to be resolved, but for team sports? Team sports are a lot more forgiving. The average female soccer player is taller than Messi, so physicality is not an impediment. Women routinely win ultra-endurance sports, so stamina is not an issue. The women’s game is a safe space to grow in, but it also allows the men to keep shutting us out. I think that when we start questioning where are we going to fit nonbinary athletes, we have to address whether we should start desegregating sports teams by gender. Gradually, of course.” Nile throws in the last line to temper the heat, but the worms have already crawled out of the can.

The other hosts are keeping their silence, and Nile wonders if this is what Booker feels like when he’s famously shooting his mouth off. She briefly wonders what he’ll say about this. The director yells for an ad break, and when they come back, they’re going to cut to messages of support from various celebrities, and then the analyst panel should talk up Team USA before the final.

Work wraps up for the day. Nile checks her messages, and sees that the Team USA group chat has gone wild. Nile gets a separate DM. “Are you fucking crazy? On live TV?” The message comes from Dizzy, current Team USA captain, and her ex. Who happens to be nonbinary. And very much not out. Because they’re the captain of the USWNT. “I don’t need you to do this, okay?” And Nile can sense the unwritten portion, _maybe that’s why we broke up._

It’s doubly awkward when Nile shows up for dinner at Team USA’s base camp that night. She’s been hanging out with them maybe two, three times a week, and although she checked and she’s still invited tonight, people are kinda holding back around her. Oh shit, she realizes, she totally pulled a Booker. Where is he when she needs him the most? Oh yeah, bloviating with his compatriots on the other side of the continent.

Before anything else, Nile decides that she should catch Dizzy in a private moment and apologize in person.

“I can’t decide how I feel now that you’re being excoriated,” Dizzy sighs, shaking their head. “In some ways I feel like you deserve it a little, but it’s gonna come from the wrong people with the worst points ever.”

“It’s gonna be a load of bs.”

“So much bs.”

They exchange glances, and then Dizzy decides to give her a fist bump. Very platonic. A statement of reconciliation. In a very platonic way.

What the hell was Nile expecting anyway? The little high of a rekindled flame? They’ve moved on. Both of them have moved on. At the end of their relationship Dizzy called her a narcissist on several occasions. Nile hopes that she’s older, wiser now, but what if...her ex is right about her?

“Heard you were dating that himbo,” Dizzy casually drops. It’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.

“What? Oh yeah...oh yeah,” Nile replies evasively, rocking back and forth. “Is that what...people say about him?”

“Hmm, he’s either a himbo or some sort of team...omega,” Dizzy continues flippantly.

“What?” Nile says again, distracted by a gnawing anxiety as she second guesses all her life choices that led to this point, and she decides the less she says about Booker the better off she’ll be.

Dizzy drags her to the dining hall, where they join the line for the healthy buffet. They get a few stares, but then people start smiling at the two of them again so...maybe everything’s ok now?

“Are you seeing anyone?” Nile asks, trying to make conversation.

“Oh yeah, Jay, if you remember.”

Riiiiiiight. Jay, who was on track to be captain, but then quit soccer to go to med school. They used to be a tight-knit squad, and then Nile and Dizzy started dating, and Jay kind of disappeared..."because med school". Did...Jay have a crush on Dizzy all along and was Nile completely oblivious to that? It would be right on brand for Nile to have totally missed out on that. It’s not a fun night to be reminded of your deepest flaws. Also, life would really be more comfortable if there were more people in the community, but sometimes...the venn diagram of queer players and people who have dated each other is a circle.

Actually, dinner is great. The conversation is quite affirming. Some of her teammates say they agree with Nile, but opening this can of worms in the run-up to the Women’s World Cup final is the absolute worst timing imaginable. The whole team knows that Dizzy is nonbinary, and they do their best to not make them feel dysphoric, but when you’re at their level of fame there’s always this discomfiting inside/outside rift. Not by choice, but by the decisions of executives whom they’ve never met—they are typecast into roles for the world to perceive.

The discourse is getting started, and soon people are throwing all sorts of statements out there. _Are you saying there’s too much money in the game, when we’re still trying to ask for money in our game? / Why does no one ever ask the men about these things? It’s like, hey, why go after the women’s team when they’ve been struggling since inception? / Is there anyone in the men’s game who’s willing to throw the gates open?_

With more deliberation, there’s some general consensus at the table that—yes, in soccer academies and at the community level and in amateur leagues, there is absolutely no reason to divide teams by gender. It’s going to take years to retool the structure of the professional game, so they don’t necessarily need to be making their demands there at the moment, but if things change at the community level, the professional level might be forced to question their operating model.

 _Are you saying we should kick FIFA’s ass?_ Everyone at the table is doubled over in laughter. Form an alternate FIFA? Even more incredulous laughter. Everyone knows FIFA has the players’ union under their thumb. _Whoso dares defy this behemoth?_

Nile returns from dinner with Team USA having made peace, and she hopes that her presence at least had some kind of positive effect. She has the whole house to herself, since Booker is away. She settles into bed, feeling lonely, and she suddenly thinks about what Dizzy mentioned earlier in the evening. Picking up her phone, she enters incognito mode. In the search bar, she hesitantly types: “Sebastien LeLivre omega”. She clicks on the first link.

> **droit du seigneur by [username redacted]**  
>  Football RPF  
>  Rating: Explicit  
>  Summary: After the Champions League final, it is customary for the team captain to exercise his rights over the pack. Booker is a virgin omega coming into heat for the first time, which inconveniently causes all out war in the dressing room as the rest of the team (who are betas) begin challenging each other for dominance. Can Captain Nicky retain his position as the alpha? Meanwhile, Yusuf Al-Kaysani, the former omega and a newly promoted beta, befriends Booker and eases him into his new role. hurt/comfort, Yooker is the endgame ship

Nile makes a face at her phone screen. _What the hell?_ But she carries on reading, curiosity getting the better of her. Nile’s cognitive dissonance takes her through a progression of extreme reactions that can only be expressed in memes. Nile is eyeballs deep in the locker room gangbang scene when she hears a car pull into the driveway, and _what the hell!_ She leaps out of bed with alacrity and runs to peek out the window. _Booker’s back?_ He’s getting out of the car, and—wait, he’s opening the back door, and is that—is that Yusuf Al-Kaysani emerging from the car on one side, and is that Nicolò Di Genova appearing from the other door? She’s barely had time to pull on her underwear for fuck’s sake.

Nile hurriedly throws on joggers and zips a hoodie over her cami. She briefly considers hiding in the bedroom because _WHAT THE HELL_ , and then she checks her phone again and nope, Booker definitely hasn’t warned her about this. She slaps a hand to her face and decides she should go out and question what’s going on anyway.

She throws open the bedroom door, which opens into the corridor that overlooks the living room one floor below. Three little faces look up at her, beaming radiantly.

“Nile!” they chirp in unison.

“This...is unexpected…” Nile begins.

Yusuf and Nicolò turn to look at Booker with perplexed faces.

“I...I messaged you?” Booker supplies, drawing out his phone. “Oh...oh shoot. It didn’t send. Haha. Oops. I guess I turned off my phone on the plane too early.”

Nile’s phone buzzes. She opens up the messages she just received.

📓💜📓  
online  
**booker:** How’s it going?  
Is it ok if Yusuf and Nichi come stay with us? They want to watch the final  
It’s just for two nights  
All the hotels are booked out  


“I guess it’s too late to say no,” Nile remarks.

“Oh no, we can leave if it’s not convenient,” Yusuf jumps in to say.

“We’re so sorry,” Nicolò adds emphatically. “We should have waited for a reply.”

“No no no, please stay!” Nile exclaims. “I just...I just need to finish up some stuff. Please hang out without me. Make yourselves at home.”

Booker gives her a simpering smile, and goes off to open a bottle of wine.

Nile withdraws to the bedroom and shuts the door. _Breathe in, hold, breathe out over four counts._ The sheer whiplash of going from that very inappropriate thing she was reading to seeing the faces of the story’s protagonists appear right in front of her... _whew, get a grip, girl._

She opens up her phone once more, to back-button the hell out of that cursed piece of filth. She gets back to the google search page, and she sees another link titled “YOOKER IS REAL??” and damn Nile Freeman, you could at least make the devil work harder, but no. You the devil’s easiest mark.

It’s a trashy piece translated from the Spanish gossip rags. There is former Gandía Shore participant, Fabián Cañizares, and he’s proudly declaring, “Of course there are gay footballers. I have slept with some of them myself. Champions League winners included. Two of them might even be dating. It is top secret stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NILE FREEMAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING
> 
> Also I spent a lot of time debating how much Depressing Real World Stuff about football I wanted to include in this fic...I hope I balanced it right?? The Women's World Cup chapters are the toughest ones of the fic so far bc I can't tell if I'm striking the right tonal balance for issues that are bigger than the scope of this fic... 😥


	63. nothing to hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuf and Nichi make an unexpected appearance in Los Angeles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessing everyone with a double post today BC I CAN'T HIDE IT ANYMORE this is gonna be good... *rubs hands with glee*

Nile joins the boys at the dinner table. They have crémant (Booker, explaining: sparkling wine from France that’s made outside the protected region of Champagne) and an open bag of Ruffles, how very indulgent.

“Hey,” she greets her partner’s teammates. “What brings you both to the US? Were you guys just like, nearby or did you come down specially for this?”

What ensues is that Booker shoots a nervous look at Yusuf, who returns with some kind of a skittish gaze, and they’re both fidgeting in their seats, and then Nicolò gives one sweeping look at them and takes control of the conversation.

“I was taking a vacation in New York. Yusuf was in the Caribbean—some place that Booker recommended—what was it, you said?”

“T-Turks and Caicos?” Yusuf stammers.

“Oh-oh yeah! I went there last year,” Booker suddenly jumps in to say, eyes darting around nervously. “Beautiful place. I saw manta rays and turtles.”

“I...saw manta rays and turtles too,” Yusuf concurs.

“How have you been?” Nicolò asks, turning to face Nile. “I thought your match analyses have been very insightful.”

Nile accidentally locks eyes with the Italian captain, and she begins to feel inexplicably nervous. _What the heck is this sorcery? Is it those glacial, intense eyes?_ “Oh er, thank you, I’m glad you think so, except I may have screwed up a little tonight…” she trails off apprehensively. Maybe they saw her on TV?

Worry crosses Booker’s face. “W-what do you mean? We were on the plane for hours.”

Oh. Shoot. Nile doesn’t really have the spoons to explain the whole situation, not least to three overpaid male footballers. “I might have said something I shouldn’t have,” she broadly summarizes.

“I’m not really finding anything on you,” Yusuf offers, as he scrolls through his phone, apparently looking through the news.

“Oh—haha, maybe the network edited that out,” Nile says, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.

“Sounds to me like the kind of mistake I would commit, not you,” Booker comments. “What did you say?”

“I er, I might have said that there shouldn’t be a men’s team and a women’s team? Like, there should just be...one team?”

The three guys look at her, contemplative but silent.

“I’ve always wondered…” Nicolò pipes up first.

_Well, it’s due to structural gatekeeping, and outdated thoughts on gender essentialism, and the complete failure of societal imagination to think beyond…_

Booker seems to be stifling a giggle. Nile elbows him hard in the ribs.

“Oh...ma brioche, that’s definitely something I would say,” Booker enthuses with barely concealed delight.

“Ma brioche?” Yusuf immediately questions, rubbing his beard pensively.

Well, that’s Booker’s pet name for her when he wants to be ingratiating. Does she want to be explaining this to her husband’s coworkers?

Nicolò seems to be trying to suppress a smile.

“More wine?” Booker asks, and it’s more of a declaration as he refills all the glasses to the halfway mark.

“Oh hey,” Yusuf interjects, waving his phone. “I found it. It’s here. On French news. I guess the American networks can’t control what goes on there. Oh là là.”

Booker instantly grabs his friend’s phone to see. He frowns at the screen, then returns the phone to Yusuf. “Euh, most people are on your side,” he says with a shrug.

“ _French people_ ,” Nile returns disdainfully, thinking of Booker’s objectionable dinner party crowd.

“You married one,” Booker says, and then Yusuf literally spits out his sparkling wine mid-sip, spraying droplets all over the hapless Frenchman in the room.

Nicolò’s eyes do a quick scan of the whole table, perhaps assessing the best course of action. “I believe congratulations are in order,” he offers diplomatically, raising his glass. “When did this felicitous event occur?”

Nile exchanges a look with Booker, and okay yeah, he’s looking at her like she should tell the story. So Nile gives a quick rundown, and, to be honest, it sounds deranged and impulsive as the words come out of her mouth. _We were gonna go to an art museum, but then we got mobbed, and when we ran away we ended up outside City Hall, so we decided to apply to get married._ Totally a normal way to kill time before dinner.

Yusuf and Nicolò are looking at them with a mixture of incredulity and awe by the end of it.

It’s probably a good idea to end the night here. The four of them make hurried excuses for retreating to their rooms, and Booker says he’ll go run the dishwasher, so Nile tries to play the good host to Yusuf and Nicolò to help them get settled in. She hurriedly pulls some fresh towels from the closet and chases after them.

Yusuf and Nicolò are walking shoulder-to-shoulder towards the guest bedroom, and Nile swears she might have overheard Yusuf mutter “straight people, amirite?” but maybe...it’s some Dutch or Italian phrase that she’s hearing all wrong?

She clears her throat, and Yusuf practically leaps a foot into the air on realizing her presence.

“Uh,” Nile says awkwardly, holding the towels out in front of her. “Here are your towels. Also, let me know if you need help with the pull-out couch.”

“Pull-out couch?” Yusuf echoes, voice sounding inexplicably hollow.

“Oh yes, there’s only one bed in the guest room, so I thought one of you might want to take the pull-out couch.”

She is met with a steely silence. Did...she do something wrong?

Nicolò breaks into a warm smile, diffusing the tension. “Of course, I’ll take the couch,” he says. “Please, show me how it’s done.”

* * *

**********BONUS DELETED SCENES/DIRECTOR'S CUT DVD SPECIAL (rating for this might be a bit more mature than teen...nothing explicit tho, just suggestive notions?)**********

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
online  
**yusuf:** Come to bed  
**nichi:** Wdym. I’m already in bed  


Of course Nichi is kidding and with Nile and Booker’s bedroom door remaining closed he jumps out of the pull-out couch, which is in the living room, and enters the guestroom to crawl into bed with Yusuf. They start chatting.

N: Can’t believe they’re married

Y: What did I tell you he is whipped af for her

N: How interesting I wonder if it carries through to their bedroom dynamic

Y: [starts LOLing] omg I would highly recommend they try pegging

N: [smirks] for all we know they already do that on the regular

Y: Okay now I feel bad. She’s super cool, but also...Booker didn’t tell her about us?

N: Ikr the moment you found out he was into her you told me about it

Y: Oops.

N: Well I wish them all the best. And happy pegging.

******Meanwhile...in Nile and Booker’s bedroom...******

Nile is extremely horny but Booker is tired and jetlagged from the flight and dozed off as soon as he was done. Pfft. She was just getting started.

With her husband fast asleep, Nile reaches for her phone...and...feeling thoroughly scandalized by what she is about to do, yet thoroughly electrified at the same time, she picks up where she left off in the lurid, debased prose of _droit du seigneur_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *scream* Let us revisit the chapter title, "nothing to hide", and think about what a disaster this whole convo is
> 
> Booker and Yusuf being such BAD LIARS  
> Nichi totally cool and in control  
> Booker accidentally revealing he's married to Nile bc his guard was totally down around Yusuf and Nichi  
> Yusuf and Nichi also letting their guard down and assuming Booker has informed Nile  
> +NOOOOO YUSUF NOOO BOOKER AND NILE ARE NOT "STR8 PPL" but to be fair Yusuf doesn't know


	64. allez les bleues!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're in the final!

Booker gets interviewed by French media again, and at first he goes, “arrêter, arrêter, je vous en prie” and tries to run away. But then some enterprising BBC reporter catches him as he does so and corners him for a take on “Nile Freeman’s statement”, whether he thinks women and men should play together?

And he succumbs, foot in mouth, “Well if Nile Freeman is on my team, I believe we can create many beautiful goals together.”

Predictably, it goes nuclear on the internet. People start questioning whether his statement is sexist because it sounds kinda...uncomfortably sleazy? “Create beautiful goals together?” Sounds very much like he is implying something else.

It gets to a point where the French National Team Captain, Rachida Achouri, yells at people to stop giving airtime to this quote-unquote, “gwer simplet”. She’ll put up with hearing from this asshole again only if he splits his €250k World Cup bonus with her, just for making it to the finals. Booker then declares that he is definitely in favor of pay equity, and that the FFF should pay the women the same as the men. After all, lord knows they will always find a way to make more money off them than they will ever pay them. Kevin Soulier, his more diplomatically-minded NBA pal, saves Booker’s stupid ass by taking the mic away. Kevin pledges €250k of his own money to any cause of the Women’s National Team’s choosing, with an additional €50k should they win the World Cup, and then Booker agrees to match the same. Subsequently, someone on the internet uncovers that Booker had given away all the money he made from the World Cup but didn’t want to make a fuss about it, and the internet grudgingly moves on.

Not that Nile is off the hook. When she goes into work the next day, her colleagues decide to ask her, off the record, what she thinks about Booker’s remarks. With a heavy sigh, she simply goes, “What makes him think I wanna play on his team?” In response, her colleagues yell and someone goes _oh snap_ and someone’s like _damn this needs to go on camera_ and Nile is like _oh no no no please don’t_ , but it’s too late, someone else tweeted about it. The internet piles on, going Nile 1, Booker 0.

Nile gets a DM from Yusuf, which kind of makes her laugh.

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
online  
**yusuf:** Very well played. I’m with you  
tbh Booker is like -1000000 I am sorry we have not been able to restrain him  


FFF agrees to pay the women the same bonuses as the men. Kevin and Booker say they’ll still proceed with their donations, and Booker makes peace with Achouri. He then posts a photo of himself wearing the national team jersey with ACHOURI 5 on the back and it goes viral. His influencer friends join in, the rambunctious mob of athletes, actors, models he’s been travelling with from stadium to stadium, and suddenly it’s the height of fashion in France to wear a jersey with the name of a player from the women’s national team.

The final rolls around, in the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena. It’s the exact same location as the men’s final a year before, and it’s just as packed. It has a capacity of over 92,000 people, and these people are gathered here today to watch Team USA play Team France. Team USA go into the match as absolute goliaths in their field, having won a grand total of five World Cup titles, in the years of 1991, 1999, 2015, 2019, 2023. In contrast, the French team’s best record is 4th-place, in 2011 and 2023.

As a fan, when you watch football, you sometimes get a hunch. A gut feel, some kind of instinct, and you don’t know where it’s from, but it feels like a deep cosmic stirring, like fate is whispering in your ears. Sometimes you get the feeling something bad will happen, and sometimes you get the feeling that you will be the chosen one. When you get the bad vibes, only superstition works. You wear your lucky underwear, your lucky socks, your lucky shoes. You tie your laces the exact same way. You place your water bottle exactly where it got you that hat trick in the cup final that one year. You cross yourself, or pray to whichever god listens to you, and hope for the best.

Nile is getting that sinking feeling. Though vastly outnumbered in this country, the French fans have...that inflated sense of purpose about them that can bend reality to their will. She doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s just—seeing Booker and Quynh and Kevin and their milieu of Not-French French friends and their very rude chants and their yolo spirit of “witty” repartees and jabs at the establishment, it feels like something is coming of age in their world.

Stop. Nile has to fight this feeling. She only wants the best for her team. She tries to psych herself up, and she writes personal messages for everyone in the Team USA squad tonight. _Go out there, believe in yourself, soak up the atmosphere, remember to have fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allez les bleues! = go the blues (feminine). The French players are nicknamed "The Blues", which is "les bleus" for the men and "les bleues" for the women cos French is Like That.
> 
> FFF = Fédération française de football, French football fed
> 
> gwer simplet = **READERS, DO NOT USE THESE WORDS you will start a war in France. "gwer" is slang borrowed from Algerian Arabic, meaning "white person". It is not derogatory, but white people in France take great offense to being called this. "simplet" = simple minded (masculine). Achouri basically called Booker a dumbass white boy. Booker obviously thinks that this insult is super hot and Achouri can step on his face anytime.
> 
> I may have made a mathematical error, since Booker said Yusuf and Nichi are staying for "2 nights" but I counted and it's actually 3. They landed in LA Fri night, and the final is on Sunday. Nvm Booker's the dumbass who can't count, not me.
> 
> Random fic universe trivia: Booker is banned from Twitter by his agent and he is only allowed Instagram, and his agent prays daily that he makes only "aesthetic" posts about his matches, lifestyle, or pets
> 
> On the topic of Booker and money, I forgot to mention that he donated his World Cup earnings to domestic violence shelters and homeless shelters since he has a policy of not profiting from playing for his country. Don't worry for our boy, he's made at least 10mil per year for the last 4 years of his career and thanks to his (long suffering) agent most of it is tied up in a sensible way. (Booker also has clear directives that his money should never go to fossil fuels, weapons manufacture, and detention facilities but let's not open the debate on whether ethical investing truly exists in the capitalist framework)


	65. qui ne saute pas n'est pas française

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui ne saute pas n'est pas Française! Eh! Qui ne saute pas n'est pas Française! Eh!

_3...2...1...action!_

The cameras are on. Nile is at work, with her co-hosts Beth Lowe, who is British and therefore a neutral party, and special guest Megan Rapinoe, of the 2015 and 2019 trophy-winning squads. They talk about their expectations for the game, and the players to look out for.

The game begins. The French players are brutal. Tackles with studs up, borderline fouls everywhere. The ref isn’t doing a good job of controlling the game. There should be cards doled out but the ref is holding back. The French captain plays up the murder vibes, encouraging aggression, shutting play down at every opportunity.

For a while, the Team USA fans are stunned. The women’s game is a lot prettier in America than it is in Europe. The Americans love 2008-2012 Barcelona, and they try to play their version of tiki taka: circulate the ball, keep the tempo high, craft beautiful attacks—but the Europeans are scrappy because it works. Nile would know, having crossed the pond to make her career—when talent is unevenly distributed within the league, the smaller clubs play a rough game to trip up the big guns. There are some who think soccer is not supposed to be a contact sport, but players are always going to push the boundaries, especially when they think they can get away with it. Any advantage is to your benefit. The French team needs that, to overcome the Americans’ home ground advantage.

But what home ground advantage? Speaking as a fan, this ref has totally lost control of the French team. Nile double checks her prep sheets on the match. The ref is from Italy. The name doesn’t stick out to Nile, so it’s not like this ref has a bad record, which makes this all the more ridiculous.

In the studio, watching the live feed, some of her colleagues are starting to swear and yell at the screens. _Remain calm. Remain professional_. Nile has to remind herself. She is just as much at work as the players are, no matter how much she wants to enter fan mode and just emote and yell.

At the 40-minute mark, French defender Niang fouls Morgan in the 18-yard box and the ref awards a penalty to Team USA. The French team kicks up a huge fuss, and VAR is used to verify. VAR affirms the penalty.

It’s blocked by the French goalkeeper. For fuck’s sake! This is starting to feel like torture.

Halftime arrives, and everyone in the studio takes a moment to pull themselves together, before going live on air. They talk about missed chances, the impact on morale a blocked penalty can have, potential strategies for the second half, and what substitutions might be made. There is an ad break, and then they cut back to the stadium.

It’s nil-nil going into the second half. Team USA comes out with all guns blazing, and some good chances are created. But...where’s the sharpness in front of goal? What’s happening? Why are they choking?

“Oh no,” Megan Rapinoe says, and maybe she didn’t mean for it to be said out loud, but Nile accidentally locks eyes with her on hearing this lament.

They’re staring at each other, one former Golden Boot winner to another, and _don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it_. Nile breaks eye contact.

 _Holy shit_ , Nile thinks, and it feels like her airways are constricting. How can she even begin to describe this feeling? Is this what it feels like to be a ghost watching from the grave? Wishing you could help those who have survived you?

Dizzy passes to Kaitlynn, who threads it through to Alex. Alex makes a run for it, and there is Morgan, onside by the far post if she needs to pass. The French have piled all their bodies in their half. Niang makes a tackle on Alex, no foul, and leftback Thibaut gets possession of the ball. Thibaut hoofs it to Achouri, who sprints from behind the halfway line and then unleashes an audacious 40-yard strike that hits the back of the net with a resounding thud. 1-0 to France.

It feels like Nile has just been stabbed. She wants to cry. The American fans have gone quiet, and then they try to start up the cheers, but it doesn’t sound the same as before.

In the dying minutes of injury time, the French captain twists the knife on the Americans. She punts a ball to the narrowly onside forward Bakambu, who smashes it in without mercy.

The French crowd in the stadium goes completely insane. Somewhere in there, Booker must be jumping away with delirious joy. Sinking into gloom, Nile wonders, had they watched this match together, would their relationship have survived?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Nile, your relationship will survive this match. But it's ok, I know how it feels like to lose. Mope away.
> 
> Golden Boot = award for top scorer in the tournament
> 
> Qui ne saute pas n'est pas Française = who does not jump is not French (feminine) 
> 
> Usually "Qui ne saute pas n'est pas Français", but for the Women's World Cup, we're using Française LOL. [This is what it sounds like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydaknoiDymw).


	66. 💔

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile mopes after Team USA's loss.

_The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;_  
_Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;_  
_Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;_  
_For nothing now can ever come to any good._

Defeat in football makes you introspective. Victory is fleeting, but the pain of defeat is forever. As a football fan, when your team is beaten, you suddenly develop an affectation for the epic, unearthing deep roots to the conquered and the vanquished all through human history. At the end of the day, every football match is a battle, and every World Cup tells a story as old as time, of warring tribes and mournful laments.

There’s no one more dramatic than the fan of a defeated football team. _Stop all the clocks_ , Nile recalls, a memory over ten years old, a poem from English class, read by a teacher who otherwise left no other significant memory. As a professional player she had to develop the fortitude to bear losses, but now that she’s a spectator there is nothing she can do to heal these wounds.

The post match review is over and Nile is wallowing through the stages of grief when her phone buzzes with messages from Booker that she wants to delete even before reading, out of spite.

But she forces herself to see it.

📓💜📓  
online  
**booker:** Hey, we’re both losers now. I still love you. X  
**nile:** Fuck you  
Fuck youuuuu  
**booker:** Sorry 🥺  
Do you want me around?  
**nile:** I’m not sure tbh. If you get party invites just go  
Think I'll see you tomorrow morning  
**booker:** Ok call me if u need me whenever  
**nile:** Kk. I’m gonna see if my team wants me  
**booker:** I’m sure they will. My sympathies 💔  


Nile wants to cry. It’s not like she didn’t know she’s a sore loser, but she hasn’t lost that much in her playing career, if we’re going to be honest. To make things worse, she has to watch as her team picks up their losers’ medals, surely the most insulting token out there. It’s supposed to indicate second place, but no recipient of a silver medal has ever felt anything other than the biggest loser.

There is no heartbreak like a football heartbreak.

Nile checks in with Dizzy, and she hangs out with Team USA into the late hours of the night. They’re not doing anything of note, just moping in each others’ presence, safe in the knowledge that everyone in this space is equally sore. They binge on ice cream and they lose stupidly at Mario Kart, too distracted to make any effort in the game. Every little infraction they suffer in Mario Kart is just cause to yell insults at the French players, unreservedly the worst, worst, WORST sort of opponents to lose to—scrappy, dirty, undeserving.

Nile gets a message from Olga, checking in on her.

Olga Ulatova  
online  
**olga:** Hello dearie how are you feeling? 😥🙏  
**nile:** I don’t think I can talk football for a whole month I need a break from this crap  
**olga:** Big hugs, Nile! USA was definitely the better team 😭😩😔  
**nile:** Less said the better. Tell me something good, Olga  
**olga:** Aww! I hope you’re enjoying LA otherwise? 🥲  
**nile:** It’s been good. Then of course today happened. How about you?  
**olga:** Good, good. Enjoying the summer house. 😙 Actually...I have a little secret 🤫😥  
**nile:** Omg!! Tell me!!!  
**olga:** Ok well. I’m supposed to wait a little more to announce...  
But I’m pregnant again 😨  
**nile:** 😱😱😱😱  
Whoa!!!!  
CONGRATS!!!!! Did you plan for this?  
**olga:** Not exactly... But when your husband wins the Champions League...things happen...🤪😉🤭  
**nile:** 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱 Wishing you a safe pregnancy!!  


Nile stares at her phone. She’s genuinely glad for Olga, and they have to catch up properly when they meet again. Come to think of it, she hasn’t told Olga she married Booker yet, but just remembering this fact gives her hives at the moment.

Kaitlynn yells that it’s time for karaoke, and they pull out music videos to put on the TV screen. They sing into remotes and waterbottles in lieu of microphones. They cycle through the classics, songs of heartbreak and songs of joy. It is safe to cry here, where there are shoulders you can lean on.

The truth is, you’re not a real football fan until you’ve had your heart broken. It’s why everyone makes fun of fairweather fans. They just haven’t gone through this pivotal rite of passage.

The heartbreak is the condition for your existence.

In time your heartbreak will heal, into a scar that you will wear like a badge of honor for the rest of your life. You will not be the only one, for this is heartbreak writ large, on the scale of millions. For all of human history, the road to the future is paved with the shattered hearts of the defeated and if you walk on in time you will meet kindred souls, and you will trade battle stories. You will feel so fragile, and so human, and it is this existential sorrow that reminds you that you are so, so alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem quoted is W.H. Auden's Funeral Blues, because this is how it feels like when your team loses something big. This is one of those feelings you have to experience for yourself imo. It IS that epic. It feels that bad.
> 
> A chronic health issue is flaring up so I am gonna take a break for a few days and come back on the weekend. The next chapter is a pretty long one anyway so I guess it'll make up for 3 days worth of reading lol.
> 
> For the football people, what are your biggest heartbreaks! Mine are...2002 Spain vs South Korea (my Raul years omg), 2006 Germany vs Italy, 2006 Arsenal vs Barcelona CL final I think.... but actually! My biggest sporting heartbreak of all is 2009 Australian Open Federer vs Nadal. And despite all that, I supported South Korea after they kicked out Spain, and I love both Arsenal and Barcelona, Federer and Nadal. Man those were some good times...🥲


	67. déjà vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile returns back to the house with Booker, Yusuf and Nichi.

Nile returns home in the morning to the rental house. Yusuf and Nichi greet her first, and they are so sweet. They ask her if she wants a hug, and she consents. They hug her in turn, and something about their hugs feels so lived-in and comforting. They tell her, if it’s any consolation, that they were supporting Team USA because there’s no way either one of them can tolerate the French.

The three of them start laughing. The noise is enough to wake Booker, who sticks his head tentatively out the bedroom door. When Nile sees him her heart gives way. She was never mad at him individually, she was just mad at everything French after the loss. Yusuf and Nicolò make excuses to disappear, allowing Nile her moment with Booker, and she bounds up the stairs and barrels into her husband’s arms.

“Auuuuugh,” she wails, curling up in his arms to sulk. He holds her, holds space for her, and most surprisingly of all he lets the time pass without saying anything stupid.

“It must be so much harder on you,” he murmurs after a while, stroking through her hair. “You actually like your team. When we lost I was like eh, the feeling will pass.”

“I’m surprised by how much you like the women’s team,” Nile returns. “I muted you on Insta cos you were so spammy.”

“You were never big on liking my posts anyway,” Booker mentions. “But you know, this team, they are more important for the future of football in my country than I will ever be.”

“Valid, but I’m going to ignore that until I get over my feelings.”

They both get messages from Yusuf who informs them that Nicolò will make lunch for everyone, and it will be ready in half an hour. Nicolò whips up a pesto pasta for the four of them, and it’s so freaking delicious that Nile regains some cheer.

“Nothing like pasta to feed the soul,” Nicolò says.

“I beg to differ,” Booker counters. “I think the ultimate carb is bread.”

“Your opinion was uncalled for,” Yusuf interjects.

Nile is laughing again, and her emotional reserves have recharged to a point where she’s happy to make conversation. “Let’s talk fun stuff,” she suggests. “What are your plans after this?”

“Ooooh, Turks and Caicos. Can’t wait to kick back and relax,” Yusuf replies.

It sounds oddly familiar. Wait. “Didn’t you just come from there? You said so a few days ago…” Nile trails off, wondering if it’s appropriate to point out.

Yusuf makes a face like he’s in deep trouble. His eyes dart from Nicolò to Booker and to Nicolò again as if asking for help.

“Maybe I remembered wrong…?” Nile offers politely. For the record, she rarely gets these things wrong, but if Yusuf needs an out despite being so obviously shifty, she can take her foot off.

Yusuf takes a deep breath. “Okay you know what. I can’t do this. I have to say it.” He looks at Nicolò, who nods.

“Nile, Nicolò and I are seeing each other.”

“Like...dating?”

“Yes, dating.”

 _Are you for real?_ something in her brain screams. Instead, she just goes, “Ohhhh.” Her brain is still trying to process the information. “So...is the Turks and Caicos thing like...a codeword, or what’s going on?” she adds.

“We are going there, but I also used it as a ruse,” Nicolò explains. “When you asked what we were doing before, we were together in New York, but I didn’t want to say that, so I made Yusuf say he came from Turks and Caicos, which is actually where we are going together after this.”

“It _was_ Booker’s recommendation, just so you know. He did go there last year and he said it’s the kind of place for couples,” Yusuf furnishes.

“Booker was alone when he went,” Nicolò adds, perhaps because he thinks Nile might be jealous otherwise? Who knows. “With just the manta rays and the turtles for friends. Must have been very lonely.”

“I didn’t say they were my friends—” Booker cuts in. “I said the manta ray touched me on the head.”

It’s all minor points of dispute amongst the guys. They’re all glossing over the real point here, when the facts begin to sink in. Yusuf and Nicolò have been dating for how long? And when did Booker find out? She jabs her husband unceremoniously in the ribs. “When were you in on this?” she whispers accusingly.

“Umm...months ago? I guess. I don’t remember when. I wasn’t going to tell you without their permission,” Booker mumbles in reply.

Yusuf and Nicolò are looking at them intently, having obviously overheard all of that.

“Yes, please do not tell anyone else. We’ve been doing our best to keep this top secret. We are very grateful that Booker has kept this secret for us,” Nicolò says.

“Of course!” Nile reassures as quickly as she can. The fallout can be very bad for news of this scale, for sure. She’ll respect their wishes. And yet...something about this sounds oddly familiar, where did she hear this…“top secret” stuff? Holy shit. Nile saw something like this on the internet! From the Gandía Shore guy! Should she tell them? She quietly draws out her phone to double-check the tabloid piece under the table, and sure enough, there it is. The original is in Spanish, but someone posted a rough translation on a gossip community. She likes Yusuf and Nicolò enough to think it’s important that they know. She’ll do her best to support them through this.

“Guys...I have very bad news,” Nile says, clearing her throat. “I was getting déjà vu, and then I realized why…” She slips her phone across the table for Yusuf and Nicolò to see.

“What’s that?” Booker asks, brows furrowing with worry.

“There’s this trashy Spanish TV guy,” Nile explains, unsure of how to describe Fabián Cañizares to people who might not have heard of him. “He said he has intel on gay footballers on some talk show. Look—here he says, ‘two of them are even dating each other’, and he hints that they are Champions League winners.”

Booker practically falls off his chair onto the floor. “What the heck?” he yells, whipping out his phone immediately. “How do I find this article?”

“Ew!” Yusuf remarks, scrolling through the post on Nile’s phone. “Why do all the commenters think it’s Booker and me?”

“It’s a very popular ship,” Nicolò explains. _Hang on._ Is it just Nile, or does the captain sound suspiciously well-informed about things he shouldn’t pay attention to?

It’s not just Nile. Yusuf and Booker both give their captain a scandalized look. “What do _you_ know about popular ships?” Yusuf asks, his face a picture of skepticism.

Nicolò falls silent for a while. Nile, Yusuf and Booker exchange awkward glances.

“I must confess,” the captain finally says. “I have a uh...a special identity protection service to clean up any mention of myself on the internet. Sometimes I ask them to clamp down when people start wondering about Yusuf and myself. And then one day they told me, everyone’s jumping onto the Yooker bandwagon, should they do anything about it? And I was like, nah that’s so stupid who would believe it? So...it is because I did not do anything that Yooker is now the monster that it is. I am sorry.”

“Geez,” Yusuf mutters, looking at Nicolò. “You’re the last person I’d expect to be pro-Yooker.”

“Hey it’s harmless fun no? Even Inter TV plays it up for clicks. Everyone loves it because it’s so fake it’s like a running joke. But since it helps bring more support to our club I willingly make this sacrifice for the good of the team,” Nicolò explains.

“These fans don’t seem to think it’s fake, Nichi,” Yusuf says emphatically, jabbing at Nile’s phone screen. “That makes me uncomfortable.”

“The tabloids love linking you and Booker to the latest pop star/actress of the day. How can you be anything but heterosexual? My aunt really thinks you’re dating a former Victoria’s Secret model,” Nicolò supplies.

“Oh Nichi,” Yusuf replies in a pessimistic tone. “I ask my agent to put those out whenever my parents question why I’m still not married.”

“I see we have both engaged in dishonest media manipulation,” Nicolò surmises. “Hayati, I guess that makes us even?”

“Okay we’re even, but, ew, Yooker,” Yusuf says. “I now understand why Inter TV picks on us so much.”

“Now what I’m really curious about is how this Fabián knows,” Nicolò muses. “What are his sources? Who told him?”

The air is tense again. Yusuf and Nicolò exchange looks.

“He was my ex,” Yusuf reveals to the table.

“I know that,” Nicolò cuts in, dismissing the context that was really more for Nile’s (and Booker’s?) benefit. “But have you kept in contact? Can’t imagine how else he has found out.”

Yusuf shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stroking his beard as he composes his reply. “Um, there’s no way he knows about us. No way. He contacts me once in a while and I dismiss it quickly—but in no way have I ever given him information about myself. Do you think he installed some kind of spyware on my phone?” With his brows furrowed, Yusuf opens up his phone to check. “Huh wait. His number is gone. Huh. It’s been blocked.”

Yusuf looks up with alarm and distress, especially at Nicolò. “How is this possible?”

“Why are you looking at me? You didn’t even tell me you’re still in contact with him. I’m kind of angry about that.”

At this point, Nile feels like she should quickly excuse herself from the table before the lovers go into all out war, and she looks to Booker for help. Booker seems very distracted, and he is bouncing a knee up and down and he seems to be ignoring her.

“I...it was me. I’m sorry. Let me explain myself,” Booker pipes up.

Yusuf and Nicolò immediately whip their heads round to look at him. “What?!” they exclaim in unison.

 _What...indeed._ Nile turns to look at Booker too. He’s got a lot of explaining to do.

Yusuf’s eyes alternate between his phone and Booker. “You...hacked into my phone to block this guy?” he practically screeches.

“I knew he was causing you angst. So when I picked up a call by accident I thought, I could just deal with him for you.”

“Picked up a call by accident? How do you pick up a call by 'accident?'” Yusuf draws out the air quotes for extra emphasis.

Booker plows his hands through his hair—a sure sign of distress. “I—you were occupied. And your phone was ringing. I picked it up intending to tell the caller you were busy.”

“And?!”

“When I realized it was Fabián I blocked the number because you said he was bothering you. I did that by going into your phone, yes. I didn’t look at anything else, I swear. I just wanted to get rid of him for you.”

“You need to tell me these things, Booker! You can’t...just block numbers on behalf of someone. That’s such a serious breach of trust. Do you know how furious I am right now?”

“Yeah...I can tell from the way you’re yelling at me,” Booker replies meekly.

Nicolò raises his hand slightly to indicate he wishes to speak. “I must say I feel hurt that I did not know that Fabián has been bothering Yusuf, but I will handle that privately. What you did, Booker, I’m going to say that this takes the cake. Going into someone’s phone without their permission? And here we thought you did a good job keeping our secret.”

Booker looks like he might burst into tears at any moment. He gathers enough composure to say, “I unreservedly apologize, please let me know what you need to repair this relationship.” The desperation is obvious to Nile, but she can’t speak for Yusuf and Nicolò.

“I’m so fucking mad I don’t even want to talk to you! Look, Nichi and I are flying off soon. How about you leave us alone for a couple of weeks? We’ll talk again at preseason, if we care to talk to you at all.”

“Give us time to cool off,” Nicolò agrees. “We’re not going to resolve this today. I think we should leave now, if you will excuse us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,” Booker says, clasping his face with his hands.

Nile puts a hand on Booker to let him know she’ll be there, but she tells him she’ll go see Yusuf and Nicolò off first, to salvage some goodwill. He nods timidly, and then plants his head on the table in the most pitiful manner.

Nile runs after Yusuf and Nicolò and tells them that she’s called her personal driver over to send them to wherever they need to go, and to let her know if they need anything else.

“Sorry for the mess,” Nicolò apologises, hugging her.

“I’m guessing you’re even more surprised than we are,” Yusuf says. “The no-contact rule is just for Booker only. Talk to us if you need help, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Nile says, as she sees Yusuf and Nicolò off in her driver’s car. They give her a polite little wave, and then the car disappears out of sight.

Standing at the front door, Nile takes some deep breaths. _Holy shit, Booker’s a real disaster._ And yet, she married this disaster of a man. Is it foolish of her to try and make excuses for him? How else can she explain that there’s something in her that believes that he must have had good intentions or he wouldn’t have done such a thing? Then again, everyone knows good intentions can go awry. Very awry.

She returns inside the house, where Booker is still faceplanted on the dining table.

“Now that they’re gone, is there anything you need to fess up on?” she asks her husband.

“Argh,” Booker groans, banging his head against the table. “Why does nothing ever go right for me?”

“Look, I’m here. For better or worse. Tell me your issues and let’s work it out together.”

Booker recounts the whole story to Nile, swearing her to utmost secrecy. It’s...wilder than Nile could have imagined, and it’s very, very illegal in parts. Fabián was blackmailing Yusuf, and in retaliation, Booker basically catfished Fabián by impersonating Yusuf. He then made arrangements to steal Fabián's phone and then he destroyed it when Fabián wouldn't delete the incriminating material. He ended up buying Fabián a new phone and over $10,000 of Apple products to compensate, and he hopes that’s the end of the story. There’s no paper trail. Booker even went to great pains to dispose of the destroyed phone in separate parts in very distant locations, so it’s going to be difficult to prove any claims if Fabian makes them.

“What I don’t get is how Fabián knows about Yusuf and Nicolò then. Your plan didn’t involve them at all. They think you told Fabián about them. Did you?”

“Yeah, on that point. Actually during my uh, ‘negotiation’ with Fabián I said something else, that Yusuf and I are dating, so he would believe why I was sticking up for Yusuf.”

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight,” Nile begins to say, and then she realizes straight is a terrible choice of word in this context. “So on the talk show, Fabián is actually hinting that Yooker is real because he thinks he got that inside info straight from the horse's mouth? And it’s not because he knows about Yusuf and Nicolò?”

“Wow, yes, you’re right. Yusuf and Nichi are safe.”

“So...if we come out with our relationship, Fabián will realize he’s been taken for a ride? He will have nothing credible to go on?”

“Oh my god, Nile, you are a genius!”

Nile looks at the man she married, and to be honest, she doesn’t know if she would do things differently had she been in Booker’s position. Nile definitely has some superhero complex going on, and if she could fix things without getting her friends in trouble, she would. On the other hand...Nile is very unlikely to keep the plan secret from her friends. She would have plotted the whole thing in cahoots with them, to get their blessing. But Nile’s friends are also the kind of people who would enjoy a ratchet revenge plan. Yusuf and Nicolò are such kind people, so Nile can kind of understand why Booker couldn’t drag them into the mess. There are people you just can’t defile with the ugly truth, and it’s up to those who can to carry that load for them to do so. It’s a lot of risk on Booker’s part though, and she turns the story over and over in her head, looking for something that would make it click. Why would Booker go to such extraordinary lengths?

 _Ohh…_ Nile is beginning to have suspicions of her own. She prods Booker’s slumped shoulders repeatedly with one finger. “Is this the reason why you said you weren’t straight when you returned from Madrid?” she asks teasingly. “Was it Fabián’s irresistible magnetism that cracked your egg?”

Booker grimaces with a shrug. “...No? Ew?”

_Well then, it must be...Yusuf._

Nile doesn’t even dare to say it out loud. She knows how much time her husband has spent trying to latch on to Yusuf’s good side. It’s the most classic Oblivious Baby Bi behavior under the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooo drama~~~ what a long chapter, whew!
> 
> I have no idea how Nichi's privacy sniper service works, but I heard that's a real thing you can pay $$$ for. I also imagine that anytime Yusuf/Nichi becomes a popular ship in this universe, these sniper agents stir shit by calling various people problematic to get them "cancelled" oh my Nichi that's really underhanded.
> 
> Booker paid with cash at the Apple store in Madrid, which...yeah what kind of dude goes around with 10k of cash in his pocket? ~JUST FOOTBALLER THINGS~ I think the Genius assistant was just like, not gonna question anything, not even gonna look too hard...just gonna do my job don't wanna get in trouble... Also, at this point I would like to remind the reader that on the night before he got married Booker gave away all the money in his pocket twice...which means he gave away approx 20k lol. On the topic of Booker and money, I forgot to mention that he donated his World Cup earnings to domestic violence and homeless shelters since he has a policy of not profiting from playing for his country.
> 
> I'm severely behind on writing and will have to post more sporadically from now on. I hope to accumulate enough chapters soon to return to daily posting!


	68. championnes du monde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nile finds herself in Enemy Territory

Sometimes in life the only thing you can do is to sweep things under the rug, and deal with it another day. Regardless of the mood they’re in, it’s time for the vacation that they’ve been looking forward to the most, and they have flights to catch and reservations that are past cancellation periods.

Weeks ago, when they planned this, it never occurred to Nile, however remote it seemed back then, that she would be landing in enemy territory. And yet, here she is, in France, the country of those who trampled all over the American team to grab a ruthless victory. In hindsight, that was some incredible hubris on her part to overlook this possibility. In this country, Booker is recognized wherever he goes, and when people see him, they invariably yell something obnoxious like “championnes du monde!!!”, and Booker will reply “allez! allez! allez!”

This time, Nile is the one with the cap-sunglasses-facemask combo, and she is never taking it off while she’s here, even if she suspects hardly anyone will recognize her. At least she has her mother by her side, for moral support. The plan is to drive out to the country, where Booker has rented a place. They’ll be joined by his mother, his sister and his baby nephew—fingers crossed they all like each other. Unfortunately, neither Dani’s husband nor Antoine can make it, so, as Dani points out, Booker is the lone thorn amongst roses. They’ve chatted over several video calls by this point, but video calls have that distance that sharing a vacation house does not.

The villa is near a town known for its antiques market, L'Isle sur la Sorgue, and it is the main reason why Willabelle, Nile’s mother, is tagging along on this trip in particular. In fact, the location was her idea, Nile is looking forward to seeing the “Venice of Provence”.

Josephine, Booker’s mother, swings by the airport to pick them up in Booker’s car, with Webster and Effie in tow. When she sees Nile, she affirms that the better team in the final was Team USA, and hopes that Nile will forgive France for this incursion. It’s a nice gesture, and Nile appreciates it coming from her French mother-in-law. This is very much in contrast to Booker, who insists France played to their strengths and thus were the “better team” because “their plan led to success”.

Being reunited with Webster and Effie brings more joy and comfort than Nile ever imagined. The car is cramped, with four adults, two animals, and a whole lot of suitcases—keep in mind that she and Booker had to pack for over a month away in the US. Eventually, they decide that Josephine will drive, Willabelle will take the passenger seat, and Booker and Nile will cram themselves in the back with the dog and cat and their carry-on suitcases. They don’t have rope to tie the larger suitcases to the roof, and it takes minutes of mind-bending tetris to load the trunk.

Something about sitting behind their parents in the back of the car makes Nile and Booker regress into complete childishness. Booker periodically whines that Webster is taking up too much space and it is causing his legs to fall asleep, and he can’t stop saying “are we there yet”. On her part, Nile constantly points out every single animal she sees on the journey, like cows, horses, sheep etc, to a point where Willabelle has to tell her to stop, because she’s trying to help Josephine watch the GPS. Booker begs to put his music on, and his mom refuses because it’s “distracting noise”.

They end up listening to Céline Dion for the entire ride. Maybe it’s a good thing that the moms have found something in common (wait a second are they talking about Whitney Houston now??), but if Nile has to listen to “The Power of Love” one more time, she might throw a tantrum too.

They arrive at the villa, where Dani is waiting for them with baby Gabi. Booker falls in love with baby Gabi instantly and Dani gleefully offloads her child to her brother. Although Dani looks very much like Booker, her personality is quite the opposite. She is sunny, cheerful and very chatty in a friendly way, and she makes every effort to make Nile and Willabelle feel comfortable.

Nile discovers that Booker and Dani have a weird ritual in which she removes his blackheads for him and does a whole skincare routine, since that’s how she honed her skills on the road to becoming a professional beautician. “Seba does not wake up like this,” Dani explains, gesturing around Booker’s face, on which she has applied an exfoliating mask, and Nile wonders if she’s catching a Beyoncé reference there.

“Oh my god, yes!” Dani exclaims, and then gushes about the single biggest highlight of her life. Back in 2018, she went to Paris to catch Beyoncé and JAY-Z in concert, and it happened to be the day of the Men’s World Cup final and so she caught both of those on the same day, at the Stade de France.

“Oh yeah,” Booker cuts in, which cracks the dried mask layer on his skin. “I bought those tickets for you as your birthday gift. Probably should’ve tagged along.”

“Please, I did ask if you wanted to join. You were terrified of my friends.”

“Your friends ask very invasive questions.”

“Sorry,” Dani says.

“I ain’t sorry,” Nile throws in another Beyoncé reference, with a pointed look at Dani, who bursts into laughter.

Nile tells Dani that she dragged her mom to Beyoncé’s Formation tour at the Soldier Field and her mom did not regret it. By the time Beyoncé did Halo for the encore, both of them were crying and holding onto each other. Dani and Nile get so excited talking that they start jumping up and down screaming, and they put on their music at top volume, which causes the moms to check in on the commotion. Willabelle starts dancing along with them, and baby Gabi tries to join the fun, leaving Josephine and Booker to watch from the sides with bemused faces.

Later in the evening, Nile checks in with Yusuf and Nicolò on how they’re doing. With Booker’s permission she tells them that Booker misled Fabián to think that Yooker is real, so their secret is safe and that she and Booker will go public the next time Fabián tries to pull another attention-seeking stunt to discredit him. By their estimation, Fabián is very much a defanged threat.

When Yusuf replies, Booker makes a real nuisance of himself, trying to peer and peek at Nile’s phone while she tries her best to hide the screen from him. “I know you miss him,” Nile says, “but this isn’t going to help.”

“I’ve been saving all these memes,” Booker replies glumly. “I can tell you which ones to use if only you showed me the conversation.”

“No way, he would immediately know it’s you. Can’t you leave him alone, _like he requested?_ ”

Booker makes an exaggerated sad face, and then buries himself under the blankets to sulk.

Nile checks her phone. In his reply, Yusuf thanks her for the information. He admits that his feelings are all over the place, and he’s nowhere near ready to forgive Booker, even though he feels relieved not to be haunted by Fabián anymore.

That’s alright, Nile reassures. Take all the time you need, she tells Yusuf, but what she’s thinking is, _he misses you_. It’s a statement she cannot add. She wonders if Yusuf misses Booker too. Everyone has advice for what to do when your partner cheats on you, but what about when it’s a complicated friendship situation? Where’s the manual for repairing friendships? Do people just expect friend groups to splinter off when there’s drama?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Beyoncé and Jay-Z at Stade de France with the WC final is real](https://sports.yahoo.com/beyonce-jay-z-showed-world-cup-final-concert-paris-crowd-went-insane-watch-192800495.html) and I WISH I WERE THERE it sounds like the most mindblowing combination of things ever. I'm also mad bc I could have been in France that summer?? but silly me did my summer school a year before if I had a crystal ball I would have deferred it 🥲🥲🥲
> 
> We have 3 chapters of...what in anime is known as the "filler episodes" where the main cast goes off to do silly fun things with no bearing on the main plot arc...this is the "Provençal Vacation" filler stretch but idk if you're like me and in need of sunshine and happy thoughts...hopefully it works for you.


	69. it takes a village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day tripping around Provence!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for:  
> -pregnancy talk, including pregnancy complications

They take day trips to various places around the area, a real Provençal showcase if there ever was one. Since neither of the moms are keen on sitting at the back due to carsickness, Josephine ends up the designated driver and Willabelle her navigator. Without the suitcases, they bring out the third row of seats, and they stick Booker back there just because he doesn’t put up a fight. Baby Gabi and his infant car seat take the center of the middle row, and he is flanked by Nile and Dani. Periodically Nile will feel bad and join Booker at the back, but he says he prefers having the extra space for his legs.

“Ahh, yes, those million dollar legs,” Dani sarcastically adds. “They must be given room to breathe. They must be given freedom and space for creativity.”

Nile laughs along, but damn, she’s now thinking about Booker’s very well-muscled legs. Footballer legs, thicc legs. She’s had her head in between those legs and she’s had those legs wrapped around her waist. Is it awkward to sit in a car with your mom and in-laws and be sexting your husband, who is also reading over your shoulder as you type? Nile gives her nosy husband a playful shove, and then giggles in the most childish manner as she hunches over to select the perfect emojis for her reply. Booker uncontrollably lets out a snort, and then Dani gives them both quizzical looks. She must have realized that there is only one answer—flirtatious texts are being exchanged on the sly, and she suddenly yells “STOP! STOP THE CAR. WE NEED TO THROW THEM OUT”. Josephine nearly crashes the car and the kids fall into a guilty silence after apologizing for the false alarm.

By Day 2 the kids resign themselves to the rotation of 80s power ballads and love songs that’s on the parental playlist. By Day 3 they start to sing along, to Stevie Wonder’s My Cherie Amour, George Benson’s Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You, and Elton John’s Your Song, in addition to the steady stream of Céline, Whitney, and Mariah. They mangle Minnie Riperton’s high notes in Lovin’ You, and Willabelle never plays the song again. Baby Gabi gurgles happily when they sing, trying to imitate the adults, and it’s so adorable that Nile feels like she’s melted into a puddle of goo.

They drive to the Gorges du Verdon for a picnic, and the twentysomethings go kayaking while the moms look after baby Gabi on a leisurely paddle boat. Booker and Dani constantly try to sneak up behind the other for a surprise splash attack, and Nile decides it’s best if she remains a neutral party (though she did splash Booker that once).

The gorge is a feast for the eyes—the water is a stunning turquoise blue, and they are nestled amidst tall limestone cliffs festooned with velvety green shrubs. An even bigger feast for Nile’s eyes is Booker’s glowing, sun-kissed skin, when he strips down to swim. Nile imagines that he will emerge like Neptune from the waters, shimmering rivulets of water shimmying down rippling muscles, and she thanks the good Lord for blessing her Mediterranean boy with enough melanin to at least turn gold when the sun shines. Instead, Booker emerges from his dive gasping and panicking about how deep the waters are, and he flails around until he finds the kayak for a hold, and then shakes out his wet hair like he’s a dog. Despite his determination not to be a sex god, at least he’s still cute even when he doesn’t intend to be.

They go to Châteauneuf-du-Pape for the vineyards, and they find out that contrary to what they’ve been listening to in the car, Josephine was into grunge and punk rock bands in her youth. She had a huge crush on Kurt Cobain and distributed anarchist zines using the photocopying machine at her workplace when her boss wasn’t looking. In fact, that was how she met Booker and Dani’s dad, since he played in a rock band, although she should have seen warning signs in how resentful he got of his more successful peers, calling them “sellouts” and much nastier things. Her appreciation of the 90’s divas came about ten years too late, as a coping mechanism after her split with Booker and Dani’s dad. This was the music they hated on as a couple, and Josephine began liking this stuff in earnest as a huge fuck you. Booker and Dani had no idea about their mom’s counterculture beginnings, and while it’s kind of cool it’s also weird to learn how much toxic masculinity coexisted with being edgy back then.

That night, in bed, catching up with their phones, Booker tells Nile that Fabian’s book just got released in Spain, but the writing is so bad there’s only a single review of it, and it is rated “not worth your time”. It is the best outcome they can hope for, and they decide they’ll just wait and see that Fabian truly fizzles into obscurity. On her part, Nile mentions that she is being offered an upgrade in her employment contract with a sweet pay rise, and it occurs to her that she should disclose her marriage in case of conflict of interest. “Oh yeah, I forgot that’s a thing,” Booker replies, scrunching up his nose.

On Sunday, they wake up early for the big trip to the antiques market. Booker claims that if he follows them, all the vendors will charge twice the price to rip off the overpaid footballer, so they leave Booker with Gabi at a cafe in order to walk around. Dani and Josephine constantly apologize for their bad English while they play interpreter, but Nile and her mom reassure them that they’re perfectly understandable. In turn, Nile and her mother make extra effort to use whatever French they know, and Nile learns that for whatever reason, her mom has a much better French accent than she does. Nile has a tendency to end up speaking Catalan, but the funny thing is that the Provençal locals understand her anyway and love her for it, and they get super impressed when she tells them she used to play for Barça. This even earns her a special discount on a set of Arcopal Harlequin teacups from one vendor.

Willabelle zeroes in on a set of opaline Portieux Vallerysthal sherbet cups, while Nile ponders if she should get a large copper jam pot...just because. Josephine and Dani have no experience with antiques shopping, but Josephine is surprised at the (high) prices of these items, and she rues the fact that her mom threw away her dad’s stuff when he died—she says that some of those things look like they belong in this market. Willabelle commiserates, and Nile learns that her paternal grandfather grew up with European toys because that’s what her great-grandfather brought back with him from the European theater after WW2. Those toys would fetch a pretty price now, but they were discarded unthinkingly when Nile’s grandfather left childhood.

They load up the car with the haul for the day, and they rejoin Booker at the cafe for lunch. He’s been recognized, and there is a small crowd gathered to hear him tell stories of the Women’s World Cup triumph, and Nile has to resist the urge to kick his smug ass out of there.

Booker notices his family and scatters the crowd, dropping hints that he would like to be left alone after a polite round of selfies. Maybe because this is a small town, and the visitor demographic skews towards older folks with a penchant for antiques over football, so they truly are left alone, and it’s nice to be able to dine with freedom.

Booker explains that some passersby thought Gabi was his baby, and were freaking out about the news, and so he had to tell them that no, it’s his sister’s baby. Since these people were mostly friendly, he ended up chatting to them about the World Cup anyways. They have a good laugh about what would’ve happened if Booker said Gabi was his baby.

At this point, Josephine reveals that she has been dying to ask if Nile and Booker pulled a shotgun wedding. The both of them are like, no, ew, but then Nile realizes with dawning horror that this must be the first assumption the general public will make about them on hearing about their spontaneous wedding. Anyway, it turns out that Josephine’s marriage _was_ a shotgun marriage, and then Booker and Dani both look like they wish they had not heard that at all.

Dani then asks if they’ve given any thought to how many kids they want and Booker’s like no, so Nile also says no, but that’s a pretty big lie on her part of there ever was one. The conversation then takes a turn for the worse. Dani proceeds to talk about how she had gestational diabetes when carrying Gabi. Willabelle mentions that she had preeclampsia when she carried Nile, and then Josephine talks about postpartum depression, and out of the corner of her eye Nile can see Booker literally squirming with horror in his seat. Oh my god...Booker probably went from “no idea how many kids” to “no kids ever” in the course of this meal.

* * *

Here, have some hastily cobbled together photos for inspiration~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much trying to write their parents, because I realized that I, a millennial-millennial, don't know any Gen X-ers and if Booker is born in 2000 his mom is basically a Gen X-er. My experience of parenting is under Boomers, which is a whole diff experience. I also surmised that Gen Z kids are all right (from my baby cousins) and are way more open to having kids than the sandwiched millennials.
> 
> Anyway I found the groove of writing Gen Xers when I encountered [this tweet](https://twitter.com/ellle_em/status/1346093469278871554) that the toxic humor millennials grew up with came from Gen X (think South Park, Family Dad) and I was like, wow, you know what, they're totally right + think about how toxic indie band culture was. You basically have a picture of what kind of "tortured misunderstood boy" machismo Booker's dad had and how he took it out on his family.
> 
> Is it even surprising that we now know that [Morrissey and the Smiths are basically alt-right](https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/jun/06/black-teenager-morrissey-racism-support-bigots), whereas [Céline Dion abolished gender](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=8&v=vSdSFKj-hOc) and [Richard Marx is a real progressive](https://kbgo.iheart.com/featured/big-95-morning-show/content/2020-06-09-richard-marx-backs-black-lives-matter-movement/)? Stan your 90s era divas, quit listening to white boys
> 
> \+ the [teacups that Nile got](https://ginaglavin.com/arcopal-france-harlequin-teacups/), and [the sherbet cups Willabelle](https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/dining-entertaining/glass/french-blue-opaline-sherbet-cups-portieux-valersthal-set-of-six/id-f_10258023/?gclid=Cj0KCQiArvX_BRCyARIsAKsnTxPPln3IJgTaHi_7iJCSLbGg1-bWMdfsUzF6oklePa65NzMdox7GhYMaAkDqEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds) got (DID YOU KNOW I LOVE ANTIQUES TOO my family knows what happens when we stop by any sort of flea/vintage market they basically lose me for a whole day)
> 
> \+ Nile speaking Catalan, a close relative to Occitan, canon!Booker's original language... 😍😍😍
> 
> Also, if you are travel starved or going stir crazy thanks to Covid confinement, please check out the [Verdon Gorge](http://www.thepostcardtravelers.com/photo-diary-gorges-du-verdon/), [Isle sur la Sorgue](https://www.provenceweb.fr/e/vaucluse/islesorg/islesorg.htm), and [the CDP wine region](https://winefolly.com/deep-dive/all-you-ever-wanted-to-know-about-chateauneuf-du-pape-wine-and-more/) through the internet.
> 
> If this fic were a sports anime, these road trip chapters are like, the ones where the studio is trying to showcase their artistic range with these gratuitous Provençal scenes


	70. the farmer and his wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Provençal vacation part 3!

They drive out to the Valensole plateau to look at the lavender fields. Apparently the high altitude concentrates the color, which explains why the flowers are so vibrant in these parts. In a surprise twist, despite what his Instagram would have you believe, Booker insists that they only stand by the side to take photos. He even takes it upon himself to yell at the uncouth tourists who skip past the fences to trample on the lavender fields for that clichéd insta shot.

To cool off, Booker goes to buy ice cream from a little stand by the farmhouse, and strikes up a chat with the farmer, who recognizes him, calling him “our Sébastien”, and then insists that they all stay for dinner. Booker feels bad that he’s dragging his whole family into this, but the farmer doesn’t seem to mind feeding all the extra mouths, if they don’t mind a simple roast chicken and ratatouille. The farmer compliments Booker that he has a very pretty girlfriend and they decide to leave it at that. The farmer says that Nile looks familiar, but he can’t recall where he’s seen her, and he wants to guess. Nile tries a little bit of Catalan on the farmer, and he’s so amazed he marches his wife over instantly, and his wife is very impressed and takes an instant liking to her. Still, neither of them can tell why she seems familiar.

Booker can’t take the suspense and decides to spoil it—he tells them over the dinner spread that Nile is also a football player, and she used to play for Barcelona, which explains the Catalan. The farmer says that no, they don’t watch La Liga, and he still can’t tell why—but then he asks what nationality Nile is, so she replies that she’s American.

“Aha!” the farmer exclaims, slapping the table. “I know now! It’s you! You’re the missing one! I was watching the World Cup final, and I was wondering where you went! Now, if you’d played in the final, that match would have been a whole different story.”

“She’s retired,” Booker hastily interrupts. Nile would be lying if she didn’t find this immediate protective behavior kinda attractive. She doesn’t begrudge the farmer though, so she puts a hand on Booker under the table to let him know she’s fine.

The farmer falls silent in return. “Oh what a shame—I didn’t know. Pardon me,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Nile replies, to put her host at ease. “I retired due to medical reasons.”

“Ça alorrrrrs,” the farmer’s wife clucks. “But you’re so young!”

“I know, I really wish I could play more.”

 _It’s such a pity!_ The farmer and his wife end up plying them with more food to make everyone feel better, which more than works to lift the spirits. The dinner spread is delicious, literally farm-to-table and yet too humble for that label. Nile doesn’t need to hear it from Booker to know how much he loves this very meal. It’s there in the way he mops up the sauce with bread. He goes as far as to steal her plate for the leftover sauce, since he thinks he can do a better clean up job.

They finish dinner in time to catch the sunset over the fields, and they take some commemorative photos to remember the evening by. They thank their hosts profusely, and Booker says he’ll get them tickets to any football match they’re interested in.

They return to the villa, and it’s their last night here. They have a late checkout, so Nile spends the rest of the night finishing her multi-day braid installation with her mom. Doing her hair with her mom is always an extra-special treat, and makes the work so much faster, especially since she is trying a fairly ambitious length this time. Dani tends to baby Gabi in her room, while Josephine heads to bed early. Booker takes Webster out for a night walk, and when he returns he tells Nile that Lykon is living it up in Monaco, and that they’re invited to stop by on the way back. Booker is showing Nile Lykon’s party stories, when Webster tries to eat her braiding hair, and he instantly freaks out. This is how Nile learns that when Webster was new around the house, the dog accidentally ate her discarded hair and had to go for emergency surgery. Of course, her mom hears all of this and all but tells her off. Since she was a child, Nile has the notorious habit of ignoring household chores until absolutely compelled to. Booker is foolhardy enough to try and defend Nile in front of her mother, and for a moment, Nile can see the conflict in her mother’s eyes: so you have a white man picking up after you now/but know that I did not raise my child to have poor household habits.

The next day, they drive back to Marseille. There isn’t much Booker can do in the city without attracting a lot of attention, so Josephine takes Nile and Willabelle around, while Booker goes to visit his brother in jail. Nile wonders if things are going to be awkward, since she has no idea how much she can ask Josephine about Pascal, but since Josephine doesn’t bring it up at all, the topic stays off the table. This is the first time Willabelle hears of this estranged, incarcerated brother, and okay, Nile will find an appropriate time to explain the situation to her mom.

Josephine takes them to the Aygalades waterfall, which is right next to the tower blocks she moved her family to after escaping from her dangerous husband. It’s amazing that there’s a beautiful patch of nature hidden amongst the urban structures, and Josephine tells them of how the waters are heavily polluted by various industrial activities upstream. These days, Josephine has the luxury of volunteering in the cleanup of this area, and she coordinates volunteer groups as part of a larger environmental program. There’s something about the combination of seeing the real, physical locations of Booker’s childhood, the stark concrete tower blocks and this little unexpected spot of nature—something catches in Nile’s throat and she has to try her best not to cry. Josephine mentions how this area has stubbornly refused gentrification, and it occurs to Nile that her mom is only just realizing that this is one of the reported hotbeds of “drugs and guns” in the city. Her mom is definitely looking at her like, _how did you go across a whole ocean, to the continent of Europe, only to end up with a boy with the kind of problems I worked so hard to keep you from._

In the evening they regroup at Dani’s husband’s restaurant. The walls of the restaurant are decorated with signed and framed soccer jerseys that Booker’s supplied. Since the restaurant is run by Dani’s husband they break the rules and let Booker bring in his own wine that he picked up before arrival. Booker being Booker, it’s probably some stupidly priced bottle but Nile has learned to never look at the receipt.

At dinner, Booker happily serves wine for everyone, and Dani relishes the opportunity to tell Nile the story of how, when Booker returned to live with his family at 15, he had turned into the most insufferable snob. Booker would lecture her about how apéritifs come before a meal, and how food should only be taken with wine. Sparkling wines should be served before still wines, and white wines should be served before red wines. “If football doesn’t work out, he can go be a waiter,” Dani whispers conspiratorially, after doing an impression of teenage poseur Booker.

“He would be the worst sort of waiter,” Nile replies, inwardly amused that Dani didn’t even give Booker the distinction of being a sommelier. “No substitutions allowed and he’ll sneer when you ignore his recommendations…”

Dani laughs. “He is such an ass but we love him anyway.”

They overnight in Marseille, and then it is time to part ways. They hug and say their goodbyes, but it’s been a very pleasant and stress-free trip, and they’ve made good memories together. Even though the airport is in the other direction, Booker insists on sending Willabelle there, and after seeing her off, they set off for Monaco to say hi to Lykon. It’s a nice midway point on the way back to Lake Como, perfect for a rest stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please [be responsible](https://www.paulreiffer.com/2019/07/photographers-instagrammers-stop-being-so-damn-selfish-and-disrespectful/) when visiting the lavender fields! 
> 
> The [Aygalades waterfall in Marseille](https://madeinmarseille.net/16387-cascade-aygalades-secrete/) (link is in French) I like how Josephine eschews all the regular tourist spots and just takes them to the little secret spot that she's involved in. 19th century Booker would know about this waterfall, it was where the bourgeoisie went to cool off. The chateau grounds the waterfall is situated on was demolished in the 1940s for the A7 motorway. Today, there's a farmer's market on the 1st Sunday of each month + guided tours, under a rejuvenation project.
> 
> The drugs and guns problem in Marseille is...statistically nowhere near as bad as American inner cities but results in a lot of moral panic and hand wringing all the same. Narratively, there are a lot of parallels with illegal firearms and battling the cops. Since Pascal's first conviction is for dealing weed, I've frequently wondered how mad Booker got in LA when his rich French "friends" happily smoked away "bc it's legal here" when their consumption back home relies on an exploitative supply chain. Anyway all this is out of scope for the fic, but I think Booker and Nile have very interesting conversations about the "rough neighborhoods" they grew up in, and parallels/differences on issues concerning the drug trade, illegal firearms, incarceration etc. in their respective countries.
> 
> Late edit: I typed up a whole list of Booker family things here. Read the 2nd post if you want [random trivia I've come up with for Booker, Josephine, Dani, Pascal and more](https://victimhood.tumblr.com/post/644048181732196352/random-tog-fc-oc-things).


	71. this time for africa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waka waka eh eh!

In the first week of July, a day before the Women’s World Cup final, Senegal beats Germany 3-2 in the third place match. The win encourages the men’s team to win their AFCON Round of 16 match against Cameroon. The men’s team go on to beat Nigeria in the quarter finals and Egypt in the semifinals, to meet Tunisia in the finals.

The AFCON finals are held in the Francistown Stadium in host country Botswana, and it turns out to be a narrowly contested final that is decided on penalties. Tunisian midfielder Slimane hits the woodwork on his left-footed attempt, and Lykon is called on to take Senegal’s 5th penalty.

Stressé? Lykon? Jamais! Lykon slots one past the Tunisian keeper in an almost insultingly slow manner. The Senegalese side of the stadium erupts with unbridled joy.

In the aftermath the Senegalese return home to be celebrated as heroes. They have an open-top bus tour around Dakar to parade the trophy, and both the men and women’s national teams are given special awards in a joint ceremony.

Flush with cash, a young and impressionable Lykon joins senior team members to party it up in the Principality of Monaco. They rent private yachts and they go wild at the casino tables. They book out the hottest clubs and they splurge on bottle service. Everyone...except Lykon.

What’s the point of even showing up! Well, you can blame Lykon’s mom. She has tagged along on this trip, with the express intent of not letting him get into any reckless trouble. The casinos and the clubs are forbidden for him, and his teammates spend most of daylight hungover and uninteractive.

Meanwhile, in the villa he’s rented, aunties, uncles and cousins of the less-preferred variety (why oh why can’t his favorite cousins make it) mill around. Lykon is itching to start some drama out of boredom, but with his mom around it’s a bit like courting death. There are only so many ways to milk the pool views for insta stories, and none of his cousins care to make fun TikToks.

Since Booker and Nile are nearby, he escapes from the house to join them for lunch. Booker has turned some shade of bronzé from UV exposure while Nile is sporting fresh lavender ombré box braids. Gosh, Lykon wants to be as pretty as Nile Freeman. He also wants hair so long it swishes around his ass, but alas, this ain’t hair for matchday.

Lunch is at a restaurant with Caribbean and Mediterranean influences, and Lykon finds out that Booker and Nile got married in Chicago. Finally! Finally someone tells him something truly exciting.

“Hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to drop this news in the most sensational way possible, how would you do it?” Booker asks.

“Why?” Lykon asks, out of curiosity, but inside he is 100% ready to stir some shit, no questions asked. They have come to the right person for advice.

“Uhh, getting back at someone, I guess,” Booker says evasively.

“Your ex?” Lykon is very surprised.

“No no no, not my ex. Reasons.”

“Just some haters,” Nile fills in, and this is so unfair. They’re clearly not giving him the full picture!

“Well, you could just post a reveal on Instagram. It’ll make the rounds for sure,” Lykon suggests. With some choice captions and selective tagging, they can ignite the internet.

Booker scrunches his face with uncertainty, and he brings out his phone to scroll through his camera roll. “I don’t really want to post these…” he says.

“Wow, these are nice photos!” Lykon remarks...and yet...they’re not explosive. The photos are beautiful, mostly because the scenery is beautiful, but they’re also very regular vacation snapshots, where the focus isn’t style, outfits, modelesque poses. Most of them are group photo shots, where Booker and Nile are joined by their family members. It’s not the kind of thing you post on instagram, unless you’re doing your holiday season commemorative roundup of the year’s treasured moments.

“What about your wedding photos?” Lykon asks. 

“No—no way. Those are too precious. I’ll post them in five years’ time or something.”

“I wanna see them anyway,” Lykon demands, and Booker pulls out some photos to show him. Booker dresses like such a hopeless straight boy—that suit looks very much like something he recycled from the World Cup, but Nile—what a goddess. That pantsuit is such a power move. The Jacquemus hat—nice nod to Booker’s Provençal background. But it’s the shade of yellow that’s the most striking. That’s Beyoncé Hold Up yellow. That’s Oshun’s yellow, Oshun the Yoruba orisha of love, beauty and fertility. Lykon has no idea whether Nile intended to channel this aspect specifically, but ugh, it’s so good. Nile is such #goals.

“Okay, don’t kill me, but I’ve got an idea. Instead of you two appearing as a couple, Booker should post like, a super sexy photo of Nile, and let people go crazy over it. Like, are they or are they not? Also, what does this mean in context of their summer feud?”

“There was no summer feud,” Booker tries to refute. “It was just that stupid Nile 1, Booker 0 thing.”

“Exactly. We need to build upon that. It’s like, aren’t they supposed to hate each other? Why is she appearing on his IG now? Who finessed whom?”

“This is so…” Nile trails off, shaking her head. “Okay, well, how skimpy is my bikini supposed to be?”

Lykon’s not going to dictate this one. He gives Booker a look, passing off the conversational hot potato.

“Uhh, well, my darling, it should be something you’re perfectly comfortable in…” Booker says nervously, twisting the hems of his cloth napkin.

“Just checking you can handle it, that’s all,” Nile casually remarks to her husband, and she gives Lykon a satisfied raise of the eyebrows.

Ugh, Lykon thinks. She is SO cool. Is it creepy to wish you were Nile Freeman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I struggled so hard writing Lykon's voice...because IT'S SO ANGLOPHONE but he's a Francophone African. Technically he should be speaking French with Booker too, but maybe they're speaking in English so as not to alienate Nile?? ANWYAY pretend the English words are like, the "translated equivalent" *vague handwave for inconsistent fanfic things*
> 
> Whatever it is, the best part about writing Lykon POV is how...blasé he is towards Booker whereas he's all hearteyes for Nile.
> 
> So I thought Nile's hair should look [something like this](https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/421227371400090108/) (but even longerrrr) but then I saw this [photoshoot of Kiki Layne](https://dailywoc.tumblr.com/post/639435524112777216/kiki-layne-for-wonderland-magazine) and IT'S SO GOOD. Anyway I'm going to describe it more like the 1st pic but feel free to imagine it whichever way you prefer.
> 
> I think my Lykon is genderqueer but uses he/him pronouns, since it's been used on him his whole life and he doesn't have the energy to fight it when he's required to be so closeted, but he gets super weirded out when someone uses gendered nouns on him, e.g. "man/guy/lad/bloke". Maybe he likes "boi".


	72. my body need your body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aw shit, get your towels ready it's about to go down... I'm on a boat (I'm on a boat) I'm on a boat (I'm on a boat)
> 
> Take a good hard look at the motherfucking boat!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor content warning for some self-esteem and body image issues

After lunch, they pick up the pets. It turns out that Booker had to bribe a valet to look after them, because he can’t leave them in the car and the restaurant didn’t allow them inside. Lykon’s plans are starting to snowball in his mind, and he recalls that his national team and Real Madrid captain, Mamadou Ba, has rented a party boat and could probably be persuaded to loan his yacht for the gram. He fires off a message to Mamadou, who’s more than happy to have Booker and Nile on board, and then Booker asks if the pets can join too.

 _It’s a yes! Pets are the best chick magnets._ Booker and Nile exchange a look on hearing Mamadou’s reply, and Lykon returns with a hapless shrug. Lykon makes Nile get her nails done, and he learns that it is impossible to get Nile Freeman to do something she doesn’t want to do. In this case, it’s gel tips. There’s no way she’s ever getting gel tips. Her nails are always short for practical reasons, but she’ll do a shellac so she doesn’t ruin the mani as soon as she steps out of the salon. Booker insists on getting his hands and legs cared for too, and Nile makes some sort of comment on him being obsessed with his appearance. It’s very surprising since Lykon can hardly tell from the way Booker looks. For a moment, he wonders if his teammate is a master of precisely manufactured insouciance. Is that why he’s always ruffling his hair, to give it volume? It will never reach the level of Yusuf Al Kaysani’s bouncy, nicely tousled curls, so perhaps he should stop wasting his energy.

Lykon tells his mom that he will show Booker and Nile around Monaco and will not be back until late night. His mom makes him swear he’s not taking them to the casino for at least a hundred times before she hangs up. He really isn’t! On the other hand, the full story is that he’s using Booker and Nile as an excuse to hop onboard a party he was invited to but forbidden to attend, because alcohol will be served. If his mom finds out, he’ll just blame Booker for misleading him. There’s nothing his mom can do to Booker’s mayo ass. If Booker were African, Lykon’s mom would have tracked his mom down and the reckoning would be on par with the Day of Judgement.

Primped and ready, the three of them catch a tender to Mamadou’s yacht. Lykon is amazed that Booker and Nile’s cat behaves well on a leash. It feels like occult magic, but Booker claims it’s “positive reinforcement”, which certainly sounds like wypipo occult magic.

Soon enough, the yacht, a 103-foot Azimut, looms on the horizon. Booker exclaims with delight that there’s a water slide, and Nile points out that there are jet skis too.

Hold on hold on. Before they go wild, please remember that the whole point of being on a yacht is the photos. They gotta do the chilling on the deck shots, with martinis in hand. Nile is wearing the cutest little cottagecore white cotton frock, of course they need to document this outfit photographically.

They board the yacht, and it is filled with young people in their physical prime. A DJ is spinning from the upper deck, and Mamadou is right about the animals. There is chaos as everyone (not just “chicks”) rushes over to look at the dog and cat, and the pets are absconded for photos. The unexpected separation drives up Booker’s anxiety and he runs off to retrieve his pets.

They are served drinks, and Lykon introduces Nile to his teammates. He’s pretty sure more than half of them are trying to hit on Nile, but instead, Nile is looking at the Amazonian models on board, and she remarks to Lykon that they’re making her feel insecure about her appearance now. _Oh no, this is bad! We need Nile at full confidence, exuding queen goddess vibes for the photo that Booker is supposed to post to his IG, and where the heck is that man, come back and make your woman feel worthy and loved because she’s forgetting it._

They find Booker lecturing on the details of puppy obedience training to a group of glamorous, swimsuit-clad women gathered on the bow of the ship. He’s getting very passionate about clicker training, and he’s expounding on the benefits of some Himalayan yak cheese dog treats. The fawning models ask him to demonstrate some tricks, and so he shows them the one where Webster can balance a ball on his head. He tells them the commands they can use to get Webster to stay put and even pose for photos, and there is a scramble of manic photo-taking amidst the squees and coos.

“Hey,” Nile says, approaching during the break, and Booker smiles at her and pulls her in for a kiss, and his hand doesn’t leave her waist.

“Don’t you think we have the best dog in the world?”

“Lykon says we have work to do.”

“Right, sorry.”

“I’m kind of—not feeling it actually.”

“No problemo,” Booker says, and then he looks over at Lykon. “Uhh, Lykes? We’re gonna chill for a bit.”

“Okay,” Lykon says, a little grudgingly. Sucks a little to have your expectations built up only to come to nothing, but hey, this is their choice.

Lykon pops into the air conditioned lounge to grab a drink, and then Keita is nudging him in the shoulder. “Hey, are they together? Or just flirting?” he asks in a conspiratorial manner, with a nod outside the windows.

“What do you think?” Lykon counters, unsure if he can give the answer yet.

“Dude, I just need to know if I stand a chance.”

“With Booker?” Lykon teases. “I don’t recommend it, but he never turns down ‘le brunch’.”

He gets a smack to the head in return. Looking out of the window, Booker and Nile are stripping down to bathing suits now, and oooh boy, Nile’s swimsuit is nothing more than various lengths of string scantily circling her bodacious figure. Is it bad that, in that moment, Lykon can literally feel the hormonal surge from all the guys in the lounge? Phew, the thermometer’s about to burst!

“Is it okay if we take a jet ski?” Booker weasels into the lounge to ask. Mamadou just waves him along wordlessly.

It soon becomes clear that Nile Freeman has no idea how to ride a jetski. She loses Booker to the water after a particularly rough bump, and doesn’t even realize that he’s gone until Mamadou goes out to rescue Booker. The Senegalese captain returns Booker to Nile, and then comes back to the boat barely holding back peals of laughter.

“Keita, my man—it’s off I tell you. They’re married.”

“They’re _what_?” some of the guys—and some girls too— _inch resting_ —in the lounge say.

“Married. M-a-r-r-i-e-d.”

“But _how_?” Keita replies almost petulantly, and he gets smacked in the head by Mamadou.

Booker and Nile return from their sojourn on the jetski and Mamadou decides to break out some champagne to congratulate them. So now the whole boat knows, and people gamely cheer for them, despite whatever disappointment they’re hiding beneath their smiles.

“Can we post this on IG?” Eni Osupa, Lykon’s friend and sought-after runway model, asks, and then Booker and Nile look at each other, and Nile replies that they can go ahead.

“I’m going to post it as ‘congrats to the newlyweds', with just the champagne glasses,” Eni says. “But I’m not going to mention who. Ooooh, the mystery.”

Mamadou decides that it’s important to teach Nile and Booker the dance that went viral all through AFCON, and Lykon captures a video of that. He shows it to Booker, who says that Lykon should post it and they’ll see how the internet reacts.

They’re not dancing together, just doing the same dance moves together. There are some shoki moves, and some shaku shaku, set to a very catchy Afrobeats summer hit. It’s a really cute video, and the intense afternoon sun makes the colors pop: Nile with her lush chocolate skin, lavender-tipped braids and strappy sunflower yellow bikini, Booker some shade of tan with sky-blue swim shorts. There’s two seconds of Lykon laughing hysterically at the end of the video clip but Booker says it’s okay to leave it in. Lykon captions it “show him girl”.

Lykon presses the button, and with a woosh, this video is out there for the world to see.

In the meantime, Booker and Mamadou go wild with the champagne. Booker is going off about the solera?? system of aging non-vintage champagne?? But Lykon thought non-vintage champagne doesn’t have an age?? That’s why they don’t put the year on the label. Whatever. Lykon doesn’t care but Mamadou is inexplicably interested in Booker’s mansplaining. Nile goes to grab some little hors d'oeuvres from the side table, and ends up chatting with Eni Osupa.

Oh…! Eni is Manu Osupa’s niece! Manu Osupa is the coach of St Ambroeus FC, where he and Nile did a special training session back in March. Lykon wades into their conversation to link them all up. Eni flies in and out of Milan for work sometimes, and Lykon met her at a party during fashion week.

They head back to shore after sunset, and Booker is too drunk on bubbly to drive so Nile is the one who drops Lykon off back at his villa. His mom invites Nile in to chat, and some of Lykon’s cousins are doing the most despite being leagues beneath this effervescent goddess. Lykon realizes that his mom is grilling Nile to ensure that Lykon did not lie to her, and Nile passes with flying colors, saying they “just chilled” on a boat sipping healthy, organic juices.

By the time Nile leaves they have accidentally left Booker in the car for nearly an hour, but he has no idea since he’s fast asleep the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nile's nails are always short for "practical reasons" aka so as not to rip Booker apart LMAO sorry just had to
> 
> This is what I think [the yacht looks like](https://www.primeluxuryrentals.com/collection/103-azimut/) (scroll to see the water slide pics!!)
> 
> I love how unimpressed Lykon is with Bookersplaining. However, Bookersplaining is basically authorial self-insert if you will indulge me. For the record, non-vintage champagne (or sparkling wine) is blended from across multiple vintages (years). NV doesn't mean not aged, just taken from grapes harvested across multiple years. The bottles that have the year on it = made from grapes harvested in that year. Also, the solera system is fairly complex, and originates from sherry production, although the Champagne region has their own system of blending "perpétuelle". Solera is a slightly more involved process with fractional blending in tiered barrels and you absolutely do not need to know this unless you want to sit for professional wine qualifications. Okay but also, you know what's the SUREST way of telling whether someone is a Cash to Splash Wine Buyer vs a Hipster Wine Buff? Grower champagne. Booker types are ALL about the grower champagne.
> 
> Also, Lykon is 100% valid in dragging Booker, our boy is wearing [shorts that cost nearly $300](https://www.orlebarbrown.com/us/men/swim-shorts/setter/blue/273303.html) but do you think anyone can tell? NO. Also, Booker and 'le brunch' askdhajsd DRAG HIM LYKON does the world need Booker and Yusuf and their $30 shakshukas?
> 
> This is what I think Nile's swimsuit looks like 🤪🤪🤪 [Reference pic](https://www.instagram.com/p/CGfkUyhl00j/), [reference video](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_vfjfIl5x2/) TBH i think it's the main reason why Booker ends up blabbering so much BS about the Himalayan dog chews and solera system it's a coping mechanism.
> 
> [Shoki!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jjf4efLfb6s) and the [shaku shaku!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbVMLvbskfg) I have no idea what songs and musical styles will be popular in 2027, but I am OBSESSED with [Olakira's In My Maserati and the video for the remix ft Davido](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59hV8Z76KuQ) has some of the most beautiful dark-skinned women in vibrant African textiles I've ever seen. The Maserati dance challenge is a Tiktok thing, but [watch this!!! for some amazing dance moves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-mHj1JYjlU). This song just captures the kind of joy and hot weather spirit that this chapter needs.
> 
> I'm soooooo obsessed with the lil Nile and Booker dance video in my mind I can see it perfectly??? And it's just....hot weather hot music hot girl hot guy mmm yesss 🔥🔥🔥


	73. xoxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xoxo gossip girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor content warning for some self-esteem and body image issues (continuing from previous chapter)

> Any enterprising internet sleuth following the profiles of various footballers and models will notice a flurry of activity on the 23rd of July 2027 concentrated around a luxury yacht moored somewhere off Monte Carlo. First, we note that the internet-famous pets of Inter Milan midfielder Sebestian LeLivre make multiple appearances in a host of Insta stories, for example, lingerie model Melodie Mara’s post of calico cat Effie sleeping in the sun captioned “cat life is best life”, or model turned TV host Laurel Adebesin’s post of Old English Sheepdog Webster balancing an aperol spritz on his head. Combined with the sun-soaked photos of the Mediterranean and pristine yacht decks, can it be surmised that the French midfielder is living it up with a bevy of professionally attractive women? Or is there something more to the indulgent hedonism? Is there a cause for celebration? Eni Osupa, most recently a Vogue Italia cover model, teases the world with a tantalizingly vague caption: a shoutout to a pair of newlyweds. Just who are these newlyweds being celebrated? If you cast an eye to AFCON champion and Inter Milan forward Romeo Lykon’s stories, you will notice a ten second clip of retired Team USA forward Nile Freeman twerking with LeLivre. Does anyone remember the French player’s Women’s World Cup comment? Dare we ask if this viral dance is an act of “creating beautiful #goals” with Ms Freeman? Ms Freeman is dressed more like a model than a footballer, flaunting her toned physique in a way that would make lesser men turn into animals. Yes, that is an itsy-bitsy yellow string bikini, and it is her high-maintenance lavender locks that do more work to cover her bottom than the swimsuit in question. What is she doing fraternizing with the French, when the wounds of Team USA’s defeat are still fresh on her former teammates?

_That’s not twerking!_ These people have no idea what they’re writing about. There’s something so deliberately provocative and infuriating about the author’s choice of words and Nile wishes she could reach through the screen to throttle this writer.

“It’s so inaccurate,” Booker concurs. “I don’t even know how they managed to make it sound like the party boat was mine.”

“White privilege,” Nile retorts.

It is morning and—guess where they are! Nope, not home, unfortunately.

Last night, after Nile bade farewell to Lykon’s extremely long winded relatives (his mom definitely seemed to have an interest in matchmaking her), she returned to the car, to a sleeping Booker. As she pulled out of the driveway, Booker woke up, and groggily told her that they should find somewhere to sleep for the night.

“Alright, how about you find a pet-friendly hotel and tell me where to go? I’ll just start driving towards Monte Carlo.”

Booker falls silent as he scrolls through his phone, face scrunched up as he tries to adjust to a too-bright screen.

“Euh, en fait, ma brioche...it says here boats are plentiful by the marina and we can spontaneously rent one by talking to the captains,” Booker says, flashing a webpage on his phone to Nile. It’s written entirely in French. _Gee thanks._

“A-Another boat?” Nile sputters in reply.

“Ben oui, did you know I have a license of French boating? We can get a small little boat to ourselves. How cute would it be to sleep on a boat?”

“Why do you have a boating license?”

“Oh…a foolish youthful dream of mine. When I made the first team I signed up with a bunch of mates because we all thought we were gonna make it big and own boats one day.”

“Well, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s not that surprising coming from Marseille,” Booker tries to explain, which, until Nile verifies this fact with either Dani or Josephine, is just going to remain in the “sus” bin of Booker claims.

Anyway, this is how they end up sleeping in a single cabin, 39-foot boat with a custom mahogany paneled deck. It’s a beautiful one, a sleek Italian design—Booker says it’s the boat he would get if he ever feels stupid enough to buy one, and it nearly sends Nile into a heart attack with trepidation that his next line might be something like “hey why don’t I buy this very boat right now?”

Nile was initially afraid that it would feel claustrophobic but if she ever feels that way she just needs to stick her head out on deck. They spend half the night lying on the sun beds at the stern, looking at the stars, chatting about naive childhood ambitions like owning a boat and going to space. What’s unnerving to Nile is that Booker has done enough research to decide he does not want a boat, since this only indicates that Booker was once at the precipice and could still be tipped over into making this fantasy a reality at any point.

In conclusion, their summer vacation got an unexpected extension. Fortunately, the pets don’t seem to mind the constant change in surroundings, and the gentle rocking motion of the water lulls everyone into a quick slumber.

Back to the present. It is morning. Nile’s group chats with her friends are buzzing with activity. The internet is obsessed with Booker’s relationship status, and everyone has some sort of input on what’s going on.

“Hey, Yusuf watched my story,” Booker blurts out.

Nile resists the urge to facepalm. _Yusuf Al Kaysani! Where is your resolve?_ “Which story?” she returns mindlessly, but decides she should go check out exactly what Booker has posted herself.

There is only one clip. It starts with a beautiful sunset across the riviera. “C’est beau” is the caption, and the video pans across the distant silhouettes of soaring cliffs against sherbet skies and cotton candy clouds, over glittering waters to the party on the boat. In the final frame the video settles on Nile, just Nile, who notices that she’s being filmed and gives a resigned little smile.

Nile recognizes this moment from yesterday and she thought he was taking a group photo! She did not expect that Booker would cut out Eni and Lykon from the frame, since they were chatting at the time. Nile’s pretty sure she got them to pose with her. The truth is, seeing the bevy of models on the boat yesterday made her uncomfortable in her own skin. All the other women are prettier, skinnier, lighter skinned. She didn’t exactly have the best time on the boat, but acted like she did. Sure, there were nice moments, like when she got on a jetski for the first time in her life, or when Lykon introduced her to Eni, who does some pretty cool activism work. She just wasn’t feeling too good inside.

Watching this cheesy ass video by Booker though—it’s true how they say the camera doesn’t lie about the gaze. Booker’s gaze is Nile, and Nile only. What a thrill it is, to see yourself through the rose-tinted lenses of someone who loves you. Nile has never seen herself in a softer light, as if there’s some filter that makes her extra pretty. And yet there’s a rawness to the imperfections that leaves no doubt that this is exactly who she is, unlike in magazine photos where they photoshop all the flaws away, to a point beyond recognition.

“You know, Yusuf could have watched the clip by accident,” she replies to Booker. “It happens.”

“Maybe you should repost it,” Booker suggests. “See if he replies to you.”

“Nah, this video is not my aesthetic,” Nile jokingly replies. “It’s nice though.”

“You like it? Did you watch to the end?”

“Yes, yes I did. It’s...a little cheesy but what did I expect from you?”

“Should I post another one?”

“What? What else do you have?”

“Oh, it’s just from this morning. It’s just...our feet.”

Booker shows her the photo, and Nile shuts down the notion as quickly as we can. “No, no way. Do not. That photo screams ‘we had sex’.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“NO!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a throwback, but for Booker and Nile + "WE HAD SEX", please read the companion fic/"DVD extras", [un jour de différence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798422), which is Booker and Nile's third date (taking place after chapter 18) and also their first sexytimes (note that the linked fic is rated Explicit and is fairly PWP)
> 
> Remember that their dance moves are NOT twerking pls read [the previous chapter's notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664775/chapters/70557909#chapter_72_endnotes)!!! Fook this gossip column "writer".
> 
> Booker's dream boat is the [Riva Rivamare](https://www.riva-yacht.com/en-us/model/p/2-152-252-PUB-EXT/n/Riva-Rivamare).
> 
> Anyway I'm gonna have to take a break from posting and get back to writing more new chapters...see you in a week perhaps, for the start of The Beautiful Game: Year 2. Whew!! What a fic!! What does year 2 have in store...


	74. the golden door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2! Year 2! Let's get to work! 👏👏👏

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: pregnancy talk

They return to Milan for a few days, and then Booker has to fly off for preseason tournaments.

While he’s away, Nile reconnects with Manu Osupa to tell him she met his niece recently. He is pleased that Nile reached out, and they exchange their thoughts on the Women’s World Cup. Nile asks him how things are going with the refugee team, and Manu says that he’s looking for a replacement because he has to go back to Lagos to sort out family issues.

Oh.

Nile sends a reply putting herself forward for the job. In her second year in Barcelona, she began taking up the UEFA B course, since she had the foresight at the time to prepare for a future beyond playing football. She did her research, and due to the absence of quotas on the licenses awarded, combined with the high standard of coaching, she realized back then that she was in the best placed position to get her coaching badges. She did always mean to continue with the UEFA A, and maybe even the UEFA Pro, but her illness got in the way and put her plans on hiatus.

This sounds like a nice opportunity to put her qualification to use—and if she can get back into the groove, who knows, maybe she can even try for the UEFA A next year? It’s an extremely intimidating thought, especially if she progresses to the UEFA A license at Coverciano. The Italian program has a heavy emphasis on tactical rigour, which makes the course all the more challenging, not to mention the language barrier. Of course, she might be getting ahead of herself here. She’s just applying to coach an amateur club at the bottom of the divisional pyramid.

It could be fun, it could be the start of something new. Could this be the next big thing she’s hoping to land? Nile is always on the prowl—when she went to college on an athletic scholarship she never let academics slide, her backup in case football didn’t work out. It was why even after she moved to Barcelona she persisted in finishing her degree. After graduation, she did the UEFA B thing, and then decided to do an MA in Art History just because there were only men in her UEFA B course, and it dented her ability to believe she could get far in coaching. She had all this pent up energy she had to take out on doing something she knew she was good at—so the MA it was. Her RA diagnosis pushed her MA back by a year, but the process of completing it opened doors for her, putting her in the orbit of fashionable media types. They said that there was room for her on their platforms, enough to convince her she could stomach retirement from playing. That was how she got the World Cup pundit gig that led to Milan...and all the events of the past year of her life.

And yet of course she misses being on the pitch. Coaching will be a whole different experience, but it brings her close enough to the game again that her every impulse is to give this a shot.

She calls Booker to tell him about this, and he tells her that he’s 100% behind her and she should go for it. It’s not like Nile expected him to give any other answer, but the little high of her partner’s validation makes her even more impatient and excited for her next steps in life. In turn, Booker tells her that his agent thinks they should go on a reputable publication to declare their marriage, and there are apparently multiple media outlets eager to bid for the exclusive. Nile doesn’t care to answer questions on marriage from an interviewer, and she doesn’t trust how they’ll frame her playing career, which is in the past tense, in relation to Booker’s, which in the present. Her husband is objectively one of the best midfielders currently in the men’s game, so he can have his moment in the sun. She makes the call to sit this out, but encourages Booker to do the kind of serious interview that will up his reputational value, and she helps him decide on the publication he’ll go on.

She arranges to meet with Manu and she peppers him with questions on what’s the level of commitment required of her, because she’s ready to go all in. He’s impressed by her enthusiasm, but tries to warn her that life at the lowest league level is going to be very different, and to moderate her expectations. Manu takes her to meet the club’s founders, and they like her enough to give her the job while Manu goes on his leave of absence.

Now that she’s home, she finally gets around to the long awaited catch up session with Olga. Olga is nearing the end of her first trimester, and things are looking good. The nice thing about subsequent babies is not having to buy too many new things, but the bad thing is that sometimes a person might have given away all of the outgrown newborn stuff and so you have to go through a whole cycle of checking with your friends if they have anything that they want to get rid of now.

Olga’s not really showing yet, and Nile accidentally goes into homework mode, grilling Olga about her pregnancy experiences so far, to learn what were the worst parts for her and if there was anything she could do to mitigate it.

Worst parts: bladder control (or complete lack thereof), feeling like you’re shitting glass after delivery, and, this is for Sasha—throwing up the entire nine months (morning sickness is a misnomer when it’s all day long, and worse when it’s all pregnancy long). For Polya, extremely bad latching that feels like mini bear traps on your nipples.

There’s so much that Olga has to say. Pregnancy’s a real bitch, and she believes the brain erases some of the trauma from the memory bank, or no one in their right mind would repeat the whole process.

Get used to not having control over anything. Never try to be the hero, and just do the things that you think will make you look weak—ask for help, cry when it sucks, order your partner around, use formula, refuse to judge yourself. Anything that keeps you sane and baby alive is good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo and happy year 2! Nevertheless she persisted! Nile is v.v.v.v. intense but...I actually have (normie) overachiever friends like her which maybe explains why they're v impressive people and I am here writing fanfic lol.
> 
> The title of this is a reference to Emma Lazarus's The New Colossus, my cute little tribute for the newly inaugurated presidential administration of the USA.
> 
> “Give me your tired, your poor,  
> Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,  
> The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  
> Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,  
> I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
> 
> I have an additional note, which is perhaps more related to the previous chapter: I saw [this post on Dwyane Wade's IG](https://www.instagram.com/p/CKMeALdn9Vl/) and immediately thought OH GOD BOOKER WOULD 100% WANT TO POST SOMETHING LIKE THAT but Zaire and Zaya's (the kids) comments on the post ARE SO GOOD oh god is this gonna be Booker and Nile 15 years into the future!!!!!


	75. chosen friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inter Milan Preseason World Tour!

It’s time for the International Champions Cup, a preseason competition featuring big name European teams playing in locations all over the globe for their international fans.

This year, Inter plays Manchester United at the Kallang Stadium in Singapore.

Singapore is a city with many instagrammable spots, and when he arrives at the airport Booker makes an effort to get a photo of the indoor waterfall. Some guy wearing a Liverpool jersey seems to have noticed him and is staring intently, so Booker is forced to move along quickly.

He doesn’t see Yusuf until the first team dinner, and even then Booker is ignored. He goes to sit with Lykon, who is talking about how he wants a photo at that rooftop pool. It’s not the hotel they are staying at though, and it’s going to be really difficult to arrange it such that they can go to the pool to get the photo without causing some kind of public chaos. And this unsanctioned activity will get them in trouble with the club.

Or...is there a way? Booker can make this a permitted activity. Time to flex the celebrity muscles. It’s worth a shot anyway. Booker messages his agent that, for his magazine interview, he would very much appreciate it if the accompanying photoshoot could take place at the Marina Bay Sands rooftop pool. _Oh sure, that can be arranged_ , and this is how Booker finds his Thursday morning booked. _Can I bring friends_ , Booker ventures, and the reply is instant. _Not too many, but [editor says] no problem._

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
last seen today at 4:17 PM  
**booker:** Bro am I forgiven yet?  
What if I told you I could get us private and exclusive access to the MBS pool?  
Don’t tell me you have plans 🥺  
It’s Thursday morning 8am  
No normal person has plans for 8am on a Thursday  


Yusuf comes online and goes offline several times, and Booker gets the read receipts. Finally, Yusuf replies.

Yusuf Al Kaysani  
online  
**yusuf:** What if my plans are...sleeping in?  
**booker:** You replied!!! 😭😭😭  
Please accept my apologies  
I am groveling 🙇  
Please grant me forgiveness 🙏  
Show me your mercy O Wondrous Friend 🧎  
**yusuf:** You misled us on manta rays  
We didn’t see any at all  
But fine  
**booker:** 🙇🙇🙇  
I will conjure a manta ray for you  


Booker calls up the hotel concierge to ask how he can obtain a manta ray plushie, but the concierge thinks that he wants to eat?? manta rays?? And is recommending him where to go for the local delicacy of BBQ stingray with sambal chili.

Booker is game to try, but he also feels guilty since the manta ray in the Turks and Caicos clearly made him a Chosen Friend. It’s all moot anyway, since they’re back on the club-mandated healthy food regime. What’s the point of being in this country even! All the travel guides constantly mention the local cuisine as mindblowing, and Booker’s not allowed to try anything on his own? The club might attempt to feed them anemic substitutes, which is just…🤮

Anyway, it turns out that it’s much harder to spontaneously buy a plushie of a specific animal species than you would think. Booker tries his card concierge, who comes through beautifully for him: the gift shop at the local aquarium sells manta ray plushies, and Booker will get it couriered to the hotel. On the other hand, going to the aquarium sounds kind of fun, and apparently it’s the largest one in the region. He wonders if he can ask the club about arranging something.

Within the hour, the courier shows up with the plushie, which is amazing in terms of speed and service. The courier turns out to be a big Liverpool fan, and asks if he can get a photo with Booker for keepsakes.

Not a problem at all. Booker knows his selfie angle so he takes the courier’s phone and snaps a few shots. The courier thanks him and leaves, excitedly voice messaging his friends about the encounter. Football is big here, especially the Premier League. Booker’s just grateful the multitude of Liverpool fans actually still like him. _Take that, Copley._

It’s time to surprise Yusuf. Booker orders champagne to be sent to Yusuf’s room, smooths out his clothes, and bounds over with the manta ray plushie. He rings the doorbell, and when the door opens he hides behind the plushie.

“Sowwyyy,” Booker says pathetically, flapping the plushie’s wings.

“Apowogee accepted,” Yusuf replies, matching the baby voice. “You look like a lobster. And what’s with the pastel outfit?”

“Oh yeah you wanna see my calves?” Booker rolls down his tube socks to reveal blistered, pink skin.

“Ah wili wili! The ancestors have forsaken you.”

Booker can only respond with a petulant pout. “I ordered champagne and it’s on its way,” he informs, trying to change the subject. For whatever unknown reason, he also decides to boop Yusuf on the nose with the plushie.

“Come in,” Yusuf prompts, shaking his head. 

Booker enters Yusuf’s hotel room, and of course, Nichi is around. Booker greets the captain, and Yusuf tells him that Booker got them a plushie.

“Wow. How romantic. I mean, I’ve never given Yusuf a plushie.”

“Cesare has,” Yusuf replies, faux insolently. 

Nichi returns with a mock threatening gesture at Yusuf, jutting himself in Yusuf’s personal space. Yusuf smacks Nichi on the chest with the manta ray plushie, grabbing it by the tail and swinging it around like a medieval weapon. Booker did not go to such lengths to obtain the plushie only to see it abused in this way.

“Are we friends again?” Booker nervously checks.

“What do you think?” Nichi says, with his signature coolness.

“Well. Yusuf watched my insta story…”

“That was by accident!!! An accident!!!”

“He screamed so loudly I ran over immediately. I was like, hayati did you hurt yourself? No, he just accidentally watched your insta story and then closed the app real quick but it was too late. So he went back to watch it another thousand times.”

“You didn’t have to tell him that.”

Nichi smacks Yusuf on the butt, and?? okay that’s not a very inclusive activity. Fortunately, the doorbell rings, and room service has come to Booker’s rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are baaaaaack!!! And in an uwu cutesey way! If there's anything that expresses how I see the Yooker friendship, it's [the song](https://victimhood.tumblr.com/post/640147475622133760/its-been-one-week-since-you-looked-at-me-cocked) [One Week by the Barenaked Ladies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fC_q9KPczAg).
> 
> The [Singapore airport has this indoor waterfall](https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2019/04/jewel-changi-airport-waterfall/) that our influencer boy Booker 100% needs to get a shot of.
> 
> The [Marina Bay Sands pool](https://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/non-guests-lie-and-steal-to-gain-access-to-marina-bay-sands-infinity-pool) is the other...100% influencer shot I think I once saw a photo where literally everyone was trying to get the same shot it's hilarious but I can't find it now.
> 
> [BBQ stingray with sambal chili!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_58g-z9VSk) Because stingray is cartilaginous it's like eating fish with no bones! Super easy! Years ago (way before covid times) I went to Serangoon Gardens w my friends, which in the world of random trivia incidentally has [a small French enclave](https://www.ricemedia.co/culture-people-racial-enclaves-serangoon-gardens-french-community/) bc it's near the French international school. Also I don't think manta rays are edible, or if they are...they would feed like 1000 people?? They're HUGE. Their wingspan is as long as the shorter schoolbuses?? Also idk how easy it is to meet one but I presume it's not that easy bc they're such amazing awe-inducing creatures. The smaller stingrays...are definitely eaten tho. And like...one of the most common Aussie fish and chips "fish" is shark (another cartilaginous fish), so like...damn sometimes I do enjoy freaking out American friends with these things. On the other hand, because sharks are apex predators, mercury accumulation is a real concern, but the big fish like tuna (Yusuf's favorite!!!) also have this problem. 
> 
> Ok so I wanted to write a whole exchange about [Booker's pastel outfit](https://www.ssense.com/en-us/men/product/amiri/multicolor-watercolor-hoodie/5188271), but I realized that I made a cultural reference only people in certain parts of the world (Australia, Southeast Asia...) would get, so I took it out bc I...spent hours googling and concluded that the Dutch do not know what a [Paddle Pop](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/313844667759089016/) is (even tho it's owned by Unilever...which is Dutch????? but look it's also blowing my mind that not everyone knows what a Paddle Pop is). The whole point was to have Yusuf make a reference to something pastel that Booker did not understand, and Booker was gonna verify it with Nile who also did not understand, but it turned out to be a Thing that the French and Americans Do Not Have, but somehow the rest of the world knows, BUT THIS IS INSANELY SPECIFIC AND I GAVE UP. If someone Dutch comes by and tells me they know what a Paddle Pop is I will flip.
> 
> Nicky's mock-threatening gesture is the one [Luca does to Marwan in GPB's test shoot clip](https://www.instagram.com/tv/CJe5cdyA5HF/) it's a v.v.v. Italian move but ~~I lost the link to the post that pointed this out D:~~ H/T to itsrottenvibes, you can see the comments on [this post](https://ink-phoenix.tumblr.com/post/639070428060680192/that-half-stomp-step-violently-transported-me-back%22).
> 
> My favorite line of this whole chapter is “Ah wili wili! The ancestors have forsaken you.” Wili wili is a delightfully multipurpose phrase in Darija and here is a handy guide to [how it is used in Darija (Moroccan Arabic)](https://robertandjulie.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/klmatic-monologues-wili-wili-wili/). Yusuf is joking about Booker's melanin levels. Booker was tanning beautifully all through his Provençal vacation, but then he took that unexpected detour to Monaco and rented that boat which resulted in too much sun exposure and [ended up looking like this](https://mattmurdocky.tumblr.com/post/95763396907/matthias-schoenaerts-having-some-fun-in-the-sun). Shoutout to tumblr user captaindelafere for informing me about the unfortunate sunburn.
> 
> ...wow I really rambled a lot for this chapter's notes (this is age 13 ffnet style rambling LOL)...but I'm finally feeling better after 1 month of a terrible flareup!!!! Yey.


	76. then pewwish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i’ll do whatever you want" / “then perish”

Booker’s sunburn goes away in time for his big photoshoot. He briefly considered asking Yusuf to help him with the aloe gel on the back but he didn’t like the idea of Nichi watching the whole thing like a guard dog, like Cesare and his intense beady eyes. _Shudder._

The magazine has flown a photographer down, and there are stylists on set, and they’ve blocked off most of the pool with opaque curtains to keep out prying eyes.

Some of the local set assistants get a little starstruck when Booker’s entourage of Yusuf, Nichi and Lykon show up just to...swim around in the pool, but they soon get left alone. It doesn’t stop his friends from being complete pieces of shit, throwing him wolfwhistles and heckles from the sides while the photographer snaps away.

By the end of the session, they all have that shot for keepsakes, the one where you’re looking over the infinity edge of the pool out into the tops of skyscrapers.

The United players are in town, and it turns out that they are staying in _this_ hotel, and they have a private swim session booked right after Booker’s photoshoot? Lykon grouses about not being able to post on insta now, because everyone will have the same shot.

The next day, the grapevine has it that Manchester United are exploring the possibility of buying Yusuf Al Kaysani. It’s impossible to describe every feeling Booker goes through, but the predominant ones are, shock and betrayal. Is this some kind of twisted revenge? Booker hits up his agent to get the goss, and then because just thinking about it makes him want to cry, he runs to Yusuf’s room to ask about it.

Nichi is the one that answers the door.

“Have you heard about this?” Booker asks, showing Nichi the transfer rumors.

“Happens all the time,” Nichi says. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“You...you wouldn’t let him go, right? He’s not going to leave us?” Booker almost reaches out to grab Nichi in desperation.

“There’s a bigger plan going on,” Yusuf cuts in, having overheard everything.

“Bigger...plan? What’s going on?” Booker can’t help sounding whiny.

Nichi places a hand on his back and pushes him into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Booker pleads, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“ _Merrick_ ,” Nichi says, and the disdain is clear from his voice.

“Merrick doesn’t like aging players,” Yusuf elaborates. “That means players over 30.”

“What? Isn’t that like, age discrimination?” Booker asks, but he recognizes how flimsy the statement is right as the words come out of his mouth.

“When you’re a billionaire you get away with everything,” Nichi practically spits out with disgust.

“Merrick has a policy of offering one-year contracts only, once a player hits the ripe old age of 30. We’re trying to show him that I’m in demand, so that he’ll change his mind and offer a better contract,” Yusuf explains.

“What if you just get sold instead?”

“I can’t be sold if I don’t want to go.”

“You know they have a lot of dirty tricks to force a player out,” Booker says.

“Yeah, what do you think the one year contract is?” Yusuf shoots back.

“Why is Merrick like this? Players don’t stop being good the moment they hit 30.”

“Exactly,” Nichi says, shaking his head.

“Did you meet with United though?” Booker presses, and it feels like he’s barely holding himself together.

“I did,” Yusuf reveals. “Just to get a sense of my value out there.”

“And?”

“He’s hot stuff,” Nichi says, almost puffing with pride. Why doesn’t Nichi seem sad about this at all?

“But…! You’re not going to leave us, will you?” Booker can hear the desperation in his voice.

“If Merrick comes through I won’t,” Yusuf says firmly.

“I don’t like this at all!” Booker has never felt more helpless.

“It’s the game we play, Book. Surely you know it too,” Yusuf returns.

“But...but!”

“Our friendship will outlive club lines, Booker,” Yusuf says, as if it's an obvious fact.

How embarrassing would it be if Booker burst into tears right in front of his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend, who doesn’t even seem half as concerned as he should be? Well, Nicolò Di Genova has a reputation for bottling everything up inside...but still. Booker isn’t getting the kind of reassurance he’s seeking. He spends the rest of his afternoon wallowing by himself in bed until Nile is awake and he can call her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to user itsrottenvibes for helping me decide on this chapter title for maximum psychic damage.
> 
> Due to Booker's "sowwy" in the previous chapter it was very hard to resist not writing his entire voice here in hewwo/uwu speech. It's like part of his personality now, just like the bottom emoji 🥺
> 
> [World's most instagrammed hotel](https://www.businessinsider.com/inside-marina-bay-sands-the-worlds-most-instagrammed-hotel-2017-12) \+ [everyone doing the same shot at the pool](https://mothership.sg/2018/08/tourists-marina-bay-sands-infinity-pool-photos/)


	77. mr nile freeman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GQ COVER BOY BABY!!!!

Inter Milan’s midfield maestro Sébastien LeLivre is finally hitting a steady stride. This is a man who has swung from extremes in a volatile career—the highs and lows at Liverpool under James Copley, the sublime performance against Brazil in the Men’s 2026 World Cup semifinal to the controversial foul in the final against Italy, to joining the very team helmed by his World Cup nemesis, Nicolò Di Genova. Today, he says he has a cordial relationship with his team captain, and at Inter Milan he has quickly established himself as a key player in the starting eleven. Who can forget the footballing masterclass at the Bernabeu, where Inter Milan schooled the home side with their lethal combination of precision and artistry?

**Hi Sébastien, congratulations on winning the Champions League. You have been monumental to Inter’s pivot to a beautiful attacking style, as one of the most complete midfielders of the game.**

Thank you, I’m just carrying out my manager [Andy] Skifka’s orders. She should get the credit for this pivot.

**Very feminist of you. How would you describe Skifska’s approach as a manager?**

She’s the hardest working manager I’ve seen. She always thinking, processing football data and churning out new ideas. She’s very creative tactically, and she dares to try things that sound crazy on paper. She’s very open to feedback too—she operates on this model of constant improvement. Nothing is ever perfect to her, but she never expects you to start perfect either. It’s a great psychological sweet spot that she’s managed to foster in the team. There’s a good balance of feeling secure and yet feeling driven to get to the next level. She definitely deserves her spot amongst the greats.

**She is truly groundbreaking, hitting many firsts for women in football. This brings us to the topic of the Women’s World Cup too. You helped draw audiences to support the French women’s team.**

Isn’t there the book that goes, “We Should All Be Feminists”? Anyway, I think I’m given too much credit for the Women’s World Cup. I’m just a spectator like everyone else. I like to think people would have watched the French women’s team anyway because they did so well, especially when they made it to the finals. They play with so much grit and determination despite the comparative lack of resources. I hope this shows that women’s football is equally deserving of the same kind of monetary investment and rewards.

**Ah, yes, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is the author of that book you mentioned. Women’s football has indeed come a long way despite its relatively short history. And of course, one of the biggest women’s stars has been Nile Freeman. The internet has been rife with speculation about what’s going on between you two, ever since Nile 1, Booker 0. Care to clear the air?**

[groans] Okay I have many points, let’s go back to what you said. Women have been playing football for as long as the game existed. Their game was so popular the English FA banned it for fifty years from 1921 to 1971. That’s why it looks like it has a short history to us—but their game has always been part of the story since the beginning.

**Wow, thank you for telling me that. I’m glad to be wrong on this point, how did you come to learn it?**

Well. You’re going to love this answer. Nile [Freeman] told me. We must give her the credit for this one.

**So you two have been talking to each other?**

Of course we talk to each other. We’re married.

**Well, my heartiest congratulations to the both of you. Please forgive me for asking the obvious, but this is news to me. How did it all start? When did you two first meet?**

Hmm, I think it was the FIFA awards in Paris.

**Wow, that sounds like a meet-cute! Were you introduced?**

I might have approached her first...

**What motivated you to do that?**

She’s really cool? Anyway we both moved to Milan at the same time, for work.

**And you kept that all a secret from the world until now!**

Yeah...I mean, you saw how crazy everyone got with the Nile 1 Booker 0 thing right? For the health of our relationship we need to maintain strict boundaries between ourselves and our work, our work and the general public, and so on.

**Certainly gives us more context to what you said now.**

[groans] Yeah, that was a moment of weakness on my part, I’ll admit. I wasn’t going to say anything—L’Equipe, Le Figaro, Le Monde—they all tried to get some words out of me, and I refused them—but then this BBC reporter mentions Nile by name and I caved.

**We all have our weaknesses.**

I certainly do. [grins]

**The internet was also very interested in the feud between you and Rachida Achouri. It seems the two of you have made peace now.**

[in French] _Rachida—top cool, trop canon._ I mean, her parents didn’t want her to play football, but she went ahead and did it anyway. She’s a true rebel and the exact kind of personality we need as our national team captain. How cool would it be if we could play in the same team?

**So, like Nile Freeman, you think men and women should start playing together?**

If it isn’t obvious by now, it is the same game that we all play. I understand the need to develop the women’s game as a safe space due to the years of discriminatory setbacks, but we don’t see that reflected in terms of resource distribution. No one’s spending more money on the women to get them level with the men. If we want the game to be equal, the women need the same resources, and the only way to do this is if everyone plays together. I don’t have the answers to the best system to work this out, but the game is changing all the time. We need to trust that it will only get better—and maybe I play for the men’s game now, but twenty years later, for the next generation—what will their game look like? Can we do better for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to bury the lede, Booker.
> 
> Credit to user gelledee [for the factoid](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/379275159) that women played football in big numbers in the 1920s and got banned because they were too popular. It's an outrage, truly.
> 
> The flex of Booker...being a GQ cover boy with the headline "Mr Nile Freeman" while looking perfectly groomed and extremely stylish....I LOVE IT gonna buy 10000 copies
> 
>  _Rachida—top cool, trop canon._ These are just French terms to say "super cool, very hot", but you have to pronounce them Frenchly. As an author writing in English, the use of "top" IS A VERY INTENTIONAL LITERARY DEVICE what I'm saying is Booker would 100% let Rachida top him. Booker...maybe wants to be the bridge in the "Eiffel tower" where Nile and Rachida are the ones doing the high five...pfft pfft pfftt mdrrrr i'm deceased i hate that i just said that
> 
> EPIC UPDATE!! [Tumblr user captaindelafere made this cover art/manip for me](https://captaindelafere.tumblr.com/post/641678404247339008) and IT IS SO GOOD. Please comment/like/reblog on the post to show love and appreciation! While I've been told the other headlines are not intentional, I'm going to take the headline about "outfits under €300" as total shade to Booker, since €300 is like the cost of a regular pair of shorts to him.


	78. la dolce vita and all that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble brews at work for Nile...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content/trigger warning: workplace microaggressions, discriminatory (racist and sexist) big bosses

Word from the top is that they’re concerned that Nile’s “spousal conflict of interest” will hamper her ability to do her job. And yet no one thinks the same of her coaching gig—everyone regards that as some cute little hobby, like weekend golf or cycling or the things her older colleagues are into. That’s right, it’s her marriage that makes senior management uncomfortable—why? Because they think she’ll disappear to be a housewife? Or because they think prolonged maternity breaks are on the horizon? Or what other unfathomably sexist opinions are they skirting around in vague, euphemistic terms to avoid triggering a discrimination lawsuit? She hears this news for the first time from the technical director, and—how does Nile even begin to describe the flash of pure rage that instantly consumes her?

Before she can compose a measured reply, her co-host Leon Howard, a tall, imposing former goalkeeper, booms out in his signature deep voice, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” the technical director says. “Just giving fair warning.”

Ah, the corporate world, where meetings constantly take place behind your back and new directives fall from the sky with no warning. And the only reliable place to learn all this information is the pantry.

Nile grits her teeth, and she might have poured too much oat milk into the foamer as a result.

“Who do I need to talk to?” Leon booms.

“You know, I’d like to think viewership will go up because of this,” Tony Dixon adds. “But don’t mind me I’m just here for a granola bar,” he throws in, and then skips off back to his desk.

“I don’t disagree,” the technical director says.

 _Am I invisible?_ So far, she’s been the subject of the conversation but not actually involved, despite being in the same room as all these men.

“What can I do?” Nile throws out, plopping her coffee on the pantry table where Leon and the TD are gathered. “Are they going to bring this up at the meeting?”

“I’m not sure. That seems unnecessarily dramatic,” the TD replies.

“I got you, Nile,” Leon says. “If they try anything I got you.”

“That’s appreciated. I’d like to speak for myself too,” Nile says. She’s not going to let anyone speak over her, even if they’re speaking up for her.

“Of course. I’ll back you up.” Leon gives Nile a determined look, and okay, Nile will have to trust her colleague.

Still. What a terrible way to start the work day. Nile decides she should just vocalize these worries that hang on her mind. “What if they don’t say anything though? What do I even do with this knowledge?”

“If there’s no change to your job scope, I say just do what you usually do—which is a damn good job.” Leon clinks his coffee mug to Nile’s and then he walks off to the meeting room.

The all-hands meeting begins. The network exec is in town, and making a stop by their small studio, the center of the network’s extremely profitable Champions League coverage. He wants to hear the team’s roadmap for the year, and whether there’s anything they can do to increase viewer engagement.

“First off, welcome back everyone. I always enjoy dropping by at this time of the year.” — _yeah, for your European summer vacation_ — “I hope everyone had a good summer. I’ve been told one of you even got married—please join me in offering congratulations to our very own Nile Freeman, or is it LeLivre now?”

The way he says it makes her skin crawl. The only relief Nile gets is from seeing her colleagues shift around uncomfortably as they offer brief, lukewarm applause to humor the exec.

“But he’s Mr Nile Freeman,” Tony sneaks in, a pointed joke to disperse the tension, and some people laugh.

On to the real agenda. They start with a review of ad revenues, and the stats are looking good. Viewership is expected to increase, and they discuss the possibility of adding in a pre-matchday fanzone series, where fans can call in to discuss their predictions. This will allow them to invite more special guests to the studio, and the network exec “jokes” that Nile will “censor” criticism of her husband’s team.

 _Goddamn._ Nile wants to walk out of the room. Instead, using her sweetest, most polite voice, she pipes up in defense of herself: “As a former player I’ve had to put up with all sorts of remarks, justified or not, from fans, rivals, managers etc. I have confidence in my ability to tolerate a healthy diversity of viewpoints.”

“Chill, chill,” the network exec replies. “It was just a j—“

“Excuse me?” Leon interrupts. “With all due respect, I think you need to chill. I played for Everton—and yet no one calls me out for making jokes against Liverpool—which is something I’ve done on multiple occasions. In fact, it’s expected from me, and viewers enjoy it for the laughs.”

“Interesting. Are you suggesting viewers might enjoy the controversy of playing up the Mrs LeLivre angle?”

“That’s not what I said. What I said was, it’s inappropriate for you to call into question Ms Freeman’s professionalism when no one has ever questioned mine.”

“Relax, why are you getting all angry? If you want, I can call into question your professionalism right now.”

 _The fuck?_ Nile shoots a look at Leon, who returns with an exasperated expression. They are the only two Black people in the room and they know how tough it is to draw the line for microaggressions—speaking up for yourself is often taken as outright hostility.

“Professionalism? Why don’t you question mine first? I always make a big deal out of having to dole out any kind of praise to the Spurs, or the Mancs,” Tony chimes in. “Nile is one of our biggest assets right now. Have you seen the reports she writes for match analyses? What you see on TV is just 10% of the work she’s done for us. I mean, all us hosts share notes, but I’m pretty sure at the end of the day we’re all reading off hers.”

 _Well well well, thanks Tony_ , but it also suddenly strikes Nile that she might be underpaid for the work that she’s doing.

“Geez, I thought being in Italy would make you guys a relaxed bunch. La dolce vita and all that,” the exec comments, and yep they’re all sideeyeing hard across the table. “As long as the revenues go up I don’t care what you guys do.”

If it’s any small mercy, at least they don’t have to put up with this guy for lunch. He skips off to a business do with some Italian TV execs to talk syndication, and the studio folks have their own little welcome-back team lunch. Tony gripes that he really needs a beer right now, and everyone agrees—although they have more work to do before beer o’clock.

There’s the afternoon slog, and then, after work, when they’ve decamped to the bar, Nile thanks her coworkers for sticking up for her.

“No worries, we’re the dream team,” Tony says, raising his glass.

Leon gives Nile a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cock of the eyebrow, and they all clink glasses. It’s really having Leon around that Nile is more grateful for, a fellow Black American but older and way more experienced, someone she can consider a workplace mentor. Tony’s just a little too blithe in a way he’s (color)blind to. But you know what, Tony’s heart is in the right place and he’s helped them both today. It’s the classic coworker compromise—not perfect, not always of your choosing, but you wanna have allies.

Separately, in her ongoing discussions regarding her weekly Serie A column for the Guardian, Nile decides she should scale it back to a monthly thing to free up her schedule for coaching, and she asks if she could be given free rein to write anything football-related instead of focusing on the Serie A, since, you know, potential conflict of interest. They’re happy to let her do that.

Good stuff. She’s all set for the upcoming season—caretaker coach at the lowest level of the game (they truly are at the bottom—it’s a relegation-free league), Champions League coverage, and permission to babble about the football issue _du jour_. Did Nile just pepper in a French term right there when she could have just used “of the day”? Oh my god she’s getting hypersensitive about this increased scrutiny now that her marriage is public, and she’s starting to second guess the smallest things about herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this chapter is sooooo triggering for me with the workplace dynamics I AM SORRY for inflicting it on you. I feel like I break out in hives every time I have to read/edit this ugghghghgh.
> 
> Leon and Tony (along with Beth Lowe) are some of my earliest "invented" characters, who, if you know enough football you might actually realize are based on real people. I wanted to strike a balance between not writing too much RPF so I only name real people when they have very minor roles (Zidane, Xabi Alonso, Megan Rapinoe) but it's v inconsistent the way I do it lol.
> 
> I have a minor rant about the weird stereotypical conception of "la dolce vita" and the Italian work ethic. Italians can be some of the hardest working people around, and the idea of "la dolce vita" is the sense of respite from hard work, and not the absence of hard work. At any rate, the whole concept is extremely class-based—the capital owning elite have always had the luxury of leisure in a way the working class does not. International labor solidarity!!!
> 
> I have two more chapters queued and then I'll need to take a break to write more content again :o undecided if I should post daily or every two days to drag it out.


	79. rondo alla ginevra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Football season's officially back!

The transfer window shuts. Yusuf Al Kaysani remains at Inter with a two year renewal, and Musa is sold to Chelsea while Bruno dos Santos comes in.

In the Serie A, Inter Milan gallop out of the gates at a blistering pace, with their strongest start to the season since 2009. With a stable team not too much changed from the Champions League-winning squad, the nerazzuri make a bold case for snatching the crown from local rivals AC Milan.

The Best FIFA Football Awards roll by once more, in Geneva this year. Nile was invited to attend but declined, since she thinks her presence will take the spotlight away from the active female players, who are coming off a record-breaking Women’s World Cup year where attendance and viewership are at new highs.

Nile heads over to Olga’s place to watch the livestream together. There’s a new and very obvious addition to the living room—a baby grand piano. All the living room furniture that used to be spread out is now compressed into a small corner to make way, and Nile asks Olga what’s up with it.

“It’s not me, it’s Timo. He had a keyboard in our bedroom before, and he plays on it once in a while, but this year Sasha is turning five, and he wants to start Sasha on piano lessons just like he used to do.”

“Timo plays the piano? Nice!” Nile remarks. It seems like such a stereotypically oddball goalie trait.

“He’s not that good, if I have to be honest. But he’s getting serious about it again, ever since he got the idea that Sasha should learn the piano.”

“You should ask him to romance you with your favorite song.”

“Please. He plays only one song. _Rondo alla Turca,_ I’m sure you’ve heard it.” Olga then proceeds to hum out the tune.

The Turkish March. Nile’s heard it, yes. She doesn’t articulate how much of a relief it is that she knows this tune—growing up in the South Side of Chicago, you don’t hear a lot of pianos in the neighborhood. And yet, somewhere in her life she’s heard it enough to not miss out on this casual cultural reference.

It’s time to tune in to the livestream. They cheer when the people they know win. Timo is men’s goalie of the year, and Lykon wins player of the year, since the FIFA awards have an admitted bias for forwards. In Nile’s very objective opinion (seriously!), Booker deserves the award, but he comes in at #4. He is named to the men’s World11 along with Yusuf Al Kaysani though. Andy wins the men’s coach of the year, and gets a standing ovation from everyone present.

For the women’s player of the year, Dizzy comes in second, losing to France’s Rachida Achouri. Despite not winning the World Cup, Team USA manage to be named to multiple spots in the women’s World11, which is a fair point of pride for Nile, who will always treat Team USA’s successes and failures like her own.

Olga asks Nile how the coaching thing is going, and the truth is, Nile feels like she’s hitting a wall. Manu Osupa still has the reins until the end of the month, and she didn’t expect that Manu would have a whole bunch of unexamined sexist attitudes. Instead of imparting any coaching pearls of wisdom, he’s constantly asking her to grab food, plan travel and clean equipment etc. Nile understands that it’s an amateur club and they are way shorthanded in terms of personnel, and that everyone has to pull extra weight, but she can’t help but feel like she’s being unfairly singled out for feminized tasks. It’s only another week until Nile gets handed the full reins, but she’s not even being prepared for a successful handover. She feels like a personal assistant, and she needs some kind of assurance she’s not going crazy and overthinking the situation.

“I could do it,” Olga suggests. “If they really need someone to do all that stuff, I’m happy to volunteer. You can focus on coaching.”

“No, Olga! That’s not the point! It’s not the solution for me to pass off this work to another woman. How does that change anything?”

“It doesn’t, but I’m more qualified at that kind of work than you are. I have a hospitality degree—I guess that means I should be able to organize travel and all these other essential services like cleaning and catering, although I think being a mom is what really qualifies me for those.”

“That’s the opposite of what I’m asking for!” Nile tries to protest. It’s...really depressing if Olga has to do this but...still! Is there no other way? “You know what, I do need the help. But if you ever need me for anything, absolutely anything, any time, please let me know. I owe you a big one.”

Olga accompanies Nile to the next training session, and Nile is impressed by the way she can order grown men to pick up after themselves. It’s a very ragtag operation, the way things are run at this club, and they have to stretch every resource they have. The team has entered a cup competition this year as well, and Olga takes on the task of getting quotes for bus charters to transport the team to competition venues.

Speaking with Manu, Nile learns that he does not intend for the team to work towards promotion, since the aim is to have an inclusive squad where refugees from any background and any skill level can participate. If they have more talented players, they would be better off being scouted by bigger football teams. This club is merely a launchpad, a community and a showcase. Better players must be moved on in order for them to break into the higher levels of the game.

She’s just a caretaker manager. Manu’s parting words for her are incredibly demotivating: “What did I tell you? You’re definitely putting too much effort into this. I think your dedication is great, but it isn’t right for the level we are at. Your job is just to give people things to do so they don’t cause trouble elsewhere.”

Would it be mutiny if Nile got enough players to agree they want to work towards promotion? What if...Nile just went ahead anyway without telling Manu of this change in vision. _We can turn this season into a dream run._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a football drill called a [rondo](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rondo_\(game\)), largely attributed to Johan Cruyff, which sees players standing in a circle tasked with passing the ball and keeping possession, while player(s) in the middle are tasked with intercepting and taking possession.
> 
> Wherever I have lived in apartments I have been haunted by neighbors playing the [Rondo alla Turca](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_THdzBnHy0). Ginevra is the Italian name for the Swiss city of Geneva, where the awards took place.
> 
> Timo plays the piano because he's very loosely based on Juventus goalie [Wojciech Szczęsny](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILEP_JYKt08) and Eintracht Frankfurt (and former PSG) goalie [Kevin Trapp](https://twitter.com/eintracht_eng/status/1252567811869872128?lang=en). One day, I should make a post of like each character and their prototype footballers. (e.g. Nicky = Sergio Ramos + Marco Materazzi, Yusuf = Virgil van Dijk + Paolo Maldini (and as adorable and loveable as Mo Salah although Mo Salah is a forward), Booker = Kevin de Bruyne + Luka Modric + Xabi Alonso, Nile = Marta + Lieke Martens which is also how you know how...I'M NOT AMERICAN I know so little about soccer in the US even tho...I live in the US now asdkasdjd) but omg omg I want to keep talking about how I see their playing styles and strengths and weaknesses BUT I MUST STOP. I'll file this for..."DVD extras" when I'm done with the fic.


	80. never was a cloudy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September!

Inter Milan makes a mockery of Lazio, beating them 7-0 at home. That same Sunday, in a different district of Milan, with not more than 50 spectators watching, the majority from the antifascist Armata Pirata 161 ultra group, St Ambroeus beat CittàStudi 5-3.

At this level of the game, the supporters are everything. They are a very, very radical group, the AP 161 crew, and they remind Nile of her college activist friends. There is apparently a deep conflict within the ultras whether Nile’s presence will introduce undue commercial pressure to the team. Nile assures them that she shares many of their values, and she is working for this team for free, for the love of the game. She will not subject the team to commercial interest. She then canvasses for opinions on whether it would make sense to have an A team that will aim for promotion, and a B team that’s open to all, and the fans don’t entirely hate the idea.

It’s exhausting, answering on a personal level to all these stakeholders. On the other hand, Nile gets so many invites to homecooked dinners in the players’ homes and she gets invited to pub nights with the ultras. On this particular night, Booker made her promise to come home for dinner though, and Nile has to reject any invitation for this evening, although she doesn’t mention the reason why. In fact, she steers clear of mentioning Booker at all, but so far, no one’s said anything bad about him, although no one’s said anything good either. Nile decides it might be best to leave it at that.

She returns home to a string of tea lights outlining a pathway on the floor. Her first thought is that this looks like a séance, and her second thought is that this is totally a fire hazard. The tealights seem to be leading into the backyard, so Nile follows their lead into a cute little outdoor dining setup with flowers everywhere and...Booker with an acoustic guitar.

“Hello my love,” he says. “How was your match?”

 _To be honest, I always get weirded out coming home to such lavish comforts after matches in the quartieri popolari._ Instead, she says, “We won! And you won too! Yay!”

Booker looks at her like he doesn’t buy her reaction.

“But what’s this?” Nile hurriedly adds. “Are you gonna start playing Wonderwall?” she throws in as a joke.

“No, no, I did that at Liverpool and got booed. Anyway, it’s…our anniversary!”

“Um, I thought that was October?”

“Oh...I started counting from the FIFA awards.”

“That’s...just the first time we met.”

“That’s an anniversary, no?”

 _Oh, Booker._ What did Nile do to deserve him? Her heart has the consistency of butter, and in times like these it melts into a soft, gooey mess. “Hit me with what you’ve got. I had no idea you played the guitar.”

“Euh, I picked it up to impress girls,” Booker replies with a shrug. “I guess it’s not working as well as I imagined.”

Nile accidentally bursts into mirthful laughter. “Isn’t that just all of your hobbies? And it kind of...ends up working on guys only?”

“True. Anyway, ahem. Here we go…”

Booker begins strumming and he’s not bad, but (1) why is he always pulling these corny ass tricks and (2) why is Nile always falling for it despite being pathologically incapable of admitting defeat?

_Do you remember/the twenty-eighth night of September?_

Booker’s singing voice isn’t...that great. His guitar playing is tolerable. But his charm levels are through the roof. His legs are crossed in a demure way to support the guitar, and he’s perched on a little outdoor stool, and love spills from his every pore despite a face etched with hesitation.

_Our hearts were ringing/In the key that our souls were singing_

Nile joins in, and she knows her voice isn’t great either, or she would have been part of the church choir all those years back. It puts a smile on Booker’s face, sloughing off his self-doubt, and Nile can throw her apprehension away too. Outside of home it still feels like they’re from worlds apart, Nile a mere earthling and Booker a star, but he’s her star, he acts like she was the one who picked him up from the ground and hung him up in space and out of her love for him he shines so bright, and out of his love for her Nile feels so special, spoiled, strengthened, secure.

Later during dinner, Effie refuses to respect that dinner is meant for two, and constantly scales onto the dining table to yowl at them. Booker gives the cat an obliging rub on the head, and it is then Nile notices that Effie has singed one of her whiskers. She points it out to Booker, who then worries it might be one of the numerous candles he has strewn all over the floor.

“Oh yes, I did think they were a total fire hazard the moment I saw them,” Nile says plainly. “My first thought was also that there was some kind of séance going on.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Booker says, leaping to his feet as he does. “I did not think about the fire hazard at all!” He frantically scurries all over the house to blow out the candles. Nile briefly entertains the thought of helping him, but then concludes she gets a greater kick out of seeing him crouched over, butt in the air, blowing out innumerable little candles on the ground.

Let’s repeat that for emphasis. Booker is crouched on all fours, ignore the fact that he’s scrambling around frantically, and focus on the fact that his perfectly sculpted footballer’s ass is up in the air, encased in thin gray sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. It’s a fine, voluptuous bubble butt that he has, a well-honed gluteus maximus, firm and bouncy to the touch. God, something about that ass is just asking to be slapped right now.

Nile leans back in her chair, and crosses her legs like a mob boss, ankle to knee. “Do you know how sexy I find you,” she drawls out slowly.

“What?” Booker mumbles reflexively, more focused on putting out the candles than processing her words.

“It’s...almost offensive...how much you turn me on,” Nile takes her time enunciating the words. “Don’t think you’re gonna get away with tempting me like this.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Booker asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

 _Grr._ Does Nile have to break character or what? She decides to walk over with a louche swagger, and when she reaches Booker she puts a foot on his back, and he rolls over, staring up at her from the ground.

“I’m not flirting with you, oh no,” Nile says with a devilish smirk. “I’m here to bend you to my every will.”

“Oh,” Booker replies softly, having caught on, folding an arm across his chest. “What could you possibly mean?” He gives her a look that’s at once sultry and virginal (how is he _so good_ at that in particular), and it’s like dropping a burning matchstick into the swirling, flammable oil slick of Nile’s desire, setting everything aflame…

_...aflame_

“Oh no, babes, your hair!” Nile exclaims in alarm. It’s not a total disaster, but Booker kind of put his head too close to a candle, and a few strands of his flopped-over hair have begun smoldering in the process.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” Booker wails, jumping up and dashing to the bathroom to examine the damage. It’s not that bad, nothing a good barber can’t salvage, but it’s Booker. He’s traumatized. It’s not until Nile reassures him that she’ll still find him attractive whatever happens to his hair that he begins to calm down.

“Would you? Would you really love me if I had no hair?”

Nile looks at his silly, tearful face, and he’s gorgeous, he really is—but then it hits her that it truthfully runs deeper than that. She loves him for him, a balled up wreck of nerves yet braver than she ever gave him credit for. There’s something about him that’s so unconditional, so hurt yet so hopeful, that makes her want to see him happy.

“I don’t plan on losing you—the plan is to start a family and stick it out for as long as we can. Hopefully we’ll still love each other when we’ve got no hair and no teeth.”

It gets a giggle out of her husband. “How many kids do you want?” he ends up asking, and oh, okay. Unexpected question. Does this mean he’s ready? Nile’s heart does a little flutter.

“How many do you want?” Nile turns the question back on him.

“Um, I asked around and I think three is a good number. Three is like, the status symbol—that’s what all the guys say. These days, two is for normal people, three is for those who can afford it. Any more and it’s a breeding problem.”

Nile is aghast. “Where do you hear such things from? Is this what you guys talk about in the locker room? Also, what if I want seven kids? Does that make me a breeder?”

Booker’s jaw nearly falls to the floor. “Seven is a lot,” he says, making a face. “By any standard.”

“My grandma had eight siblings,” Nile tries to argue. “And it sounded so fun to have a big family.”

“I think we should take it one at a time, no? And also, your grandma’s time was before widespread birth control, and maternal mortality rates were horrifying...”

“Alright alright,” Nile relents. “The doc says I have one month to go before the all-clear anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway...here's Wonderwall. The thing about being 30+ and no longer ashamed of your ffnet days is you can give 0 fucks about nearly making this chapter a whole songfic. The actual song referenced is, of course, Earth, Wind & Fire's September, with a sly change for the actual date.
> 
> I'd like to thank the Book of Nile group chat (and user sphinx81) on Tumblr for the Stardust AU idea that inspired the para on Booker being Nile's star!
> 
> I feel like I probably should have done this earlier but as a disclaimer I have no intention of making babies a plot device. I am all for family planning so the whole point of me writing them having kids is to show...that to the extent you can plan and prepare, you should do so. 
> 
> I leave you with this cute little chapter on their anniversary and I'm gonna go on a break again...to write more for this story. Also anyone following my Tumblr might have noticed I went on a football gif reblogging binge last night, but I am OBSESSED with [this picture of Serge Aurier and Harry Kane](https://hotspurhq.tumblr.com/post/640572901895094272/serge-aurier-and-harry-kane-celebrating-our-second)\--THAT IS SUCH A CLASSIC LYKON-BOOKER GOAL CELEBRATION MOVE Harry Kane pretty much has Booker's build for a footballer, he's 6'2" and kinda beefy (footballers tend to be very lean, so...I imagine football!Booker to be a little leaner than Matthias but your frame is what your genes gave you and...so some...beefiness is necessary for Booker...although if we go by canon period authenticity Booker should have been tiny and malnourished...whatever it is the casting director gave us Matthias so...here we go my brain CANNOT unsee the Harry Kane-Booker similarities now)


	81. transplant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake me up...when September ends. It's October! Wakey wakey!

Nile is really getting into the swing of things in Milan, so much so that she wishes she kept her original apartment lease on the side, because it would have given her a place to crash when she spends too much time in the city. She’s attended pub nights with the ultras, and they’re basically the type of people she would have gravitated to anyway. They’re a bunch of activist folks, academically inclined, resolutely antifascist. They agree that the football club belongs to the community and should serve the community, and because Nile sees the queer, feminist subsection of the supporter group (and she’s pretty sure they see her too), Nile floats the idea of selling gender-inclusive football to the migrant community through a kids program, drawing upon the supporter group to volunteer their Saturday mornings to establish a safe space for kids of all genders to explore the sport.

Nile gets close to the players too, and through meeting their family she gets inducted to the amazing world of Black migrant womanhood. It’s the first time since moving to Europe that she finds herself in spaces where Black and Brown women are the majority. Due to national origin they regard Nile with a mix of curiosity and motherly concern. The parts they can’t square with they assign to her Americanness, but Nile has always relished challenging her worldview to go beyond the confines of her American sensibilities. The women she meets are usually the wives, mothers, sisters, daughters of her players, and they run the gamut of opinions of football: it gives the boys something to do and keeps them out of trouble/it’s a tolerable hobby as long as they don’t sacrifice their day job or familial obligations/they did wonder how their lives would be like had they tried playing football/Arsene Wenger is to blame for their current plight in life. Nile almost wants to have a fundraiser match where these women who don’t play football get to have a go.

Beyond football, she gets great tips on where to do her hair, she gets introduced to the home-based salons that take appointments by referral only. Unfortunately, sitting in a salon chair surrounded by a group of aunties means she starts to get bombarded with questions on the health of her relationship, and more egregiously, her sex life. She gets offered some dubious health advisories on fertility, but more often than not she receives solid advice on rearing children. She gets met with some disapproval when some aunties learn that she lets her husband see her without her hair done, or even worse, with her hair half done—but Nile is like, _I’ve seen him clip toenails while using the toilet—what’s the big deal?_ And some aunties jump in to defend Nile, that she can do whatever she thinks is appropriate, but then it nearly starts an all-out war between Aunty Eunice and Aunty Prudence.

Nile meets with the club directors to pitch the concept of the children’s football program, focusing on the angle of allowing busy parents to drop the kids off and have half a day to themselves. The idea is approved, and with volunteers from the supporter base, they roll out a Saturday morning kids football program where they have separate training groups for the boys and girls, but in the last hour of the session they mix them up to form teams to play against each other, round-robin style. This last part matters to Nile, to make the boys realize that they can have girls on their team and win matches. Because of the ties she has built with the migrant community, enough kids show up for the plan to be considered a mild success.

One of the moms even confides in person that she appreciates that Nile emphasizes that the kids put their studies first and use football as an outlet. The fact that Nile has degrees to her name shows that she walks the talk, and it lets this mom drop her kids off for football while retaining peace of mind, since she can trust that Nile has her kids’ best interests at heart. Even better still, as a token of gratitude, Nile gets passed all sorts of delicious homemade snacks to take home—akara, chin chin, puff puffs. Inevitably, Booker attempts to steal these snacks when he sees them.

“Nuh-uh, does your club allow it?” Nile retorts, trying to shield her Tupperware container from her husband. “If your club allows it I’ll let you have some.”

“Uh, it’s _racist_ that my club doesn’t allow me to snack on this.”

“No. NO,” Nile practically yells in response. “You do _not_ get to pull this one on me. Take that back! Take that back!”

“Sorry sorry,” Booker says, with a childish pout. He’s lucky he isn’t banished to the guest room that night.

However, in terms of crossing boundaries, the trophy for the most brazen attempt has to be the aunties who get in contact with her mom.

“Very easy to add and find people online you know,” Aunty Prudence says.

 _No, not Facebook_ , Nile thinks with a shudder, but she doesn’t even know if her own mom still goes there. Turns out they found her mom on LinkedIn, which makes it feel even worse. On her weekly calls with her mom Nile then learns that these aunties have been “concerned” about her sex life??? How did they get to that point when Nile only revealed “yes, we are trying for kids”, caving under pressure from a particularly impudent interrogation during one cornrow braiding session? Nile now regrets even trying to retain a modicum of truth. Spies! Informants everywhere! Is there no one she can trust?

Sooo. The truth. The aunties probably assumed she’s been trying for kids since...she got married. However, she only got the all-clear recently, but she is decidedly not telling the aunties about this. In fact, sex isn’t difficult between her and Booker at all, quite the opposite. They have a lot of sex. Maybe a lot of the sex is in a way that does not allow for the possibility of insemination, but like, you only need to get lucky once, right? Not to sound weird or anything but Nile used to brag about the regularity of her periods to Dizzy. Well, she just thought it was a hilarious natural ability on the part of her body, and she liked how she could keep time on it, and, before you get too weirded out about it, she was talking about this only because the IUD made her periods irregular and she was mourning the loss of her timekeeping ability. Okay, so Nile is maybe kind of prone to telling/showing her partners every little gross detail about herself but is it a bad thing? Dizzy was always amused by it, Booker seems really into it in an almost perverse way.

Come to think of it, Booker’s the one who has fantasies about being pregnant and carrying her babies so much so that one day Nile has had enough of it and she just flat out asks Booker if he thinks his thoughts are...maybe kinda sorta a little dysphoric?

“Eummm,” he hems and haws. “I don’t know. I mean, in an ideal world I want to have your babies. But I also want to be a guy. I want to be a guy with a uterus maybe? It’s totally a thing these days.”

“It IS a thing…” Nile replies as delicately as she can. “But the science isn’t there yet for you, babes...”

“Oh,” Booker says, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah…” Nile replies, trying to be as reassuring as she can. What a thought, if Booker could have her babies...what a thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of accumulating a few more chapters, but then last night I was hit by a sadness and longing for pre-covid times of [casual human interaction](https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2021/01/pandemic-goodbye-casual-friends/617839/) which I thought was present in this chapter, in Nile's interaction with fans, at the salons etc. We are in February which makes it nearly 11 months of isolation for so many of us. D:
> 
> It just occurred to me I spelled "Aunty" the British way but I'm sooo Anglo-Anglophone certain traits are hard to erase in fact on close reading of this chapter I swear I can see the Anglo-ness jump out. [Akara](https://www.mydiasporakitchen.com/akara-balls-black-eyed-peas-fritters/), [chin chin](https://www.mydiasporakitchen.com/nigerian-chin-chin-recipe-searching/), [puff puffs](https://www.africanbites.com/puff-puff/).
> 
> I think this chapter is hilarious?? But now on a Monday morning I can't even laugh at it bc I'm just trying to avoid work proper.
> 
>  _Arsene Wenger is to blame for their current plight in life_ TOO TRUE I LOVE MR WENGER BUT ALSO. (I'm a gooner there I said it now it is known)
> 
> Next chapter...in like another week or who knows lol.


	82. overkill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> # This function fills in the month of October via Olga backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: implied mention of sexual harassment on the job, mention of racism, stalking

Behind the scenes, Olga turns out to be a genius with spreadsheets. Nile had no idea her friend was harboring this secret superpower, until Olga leads Nile into the “gaming den” at her house, where the computers are located. The “gaming den” looks like a clandestine lair, tucked in a windowless basement of the house with multiple glowing screens, gaming chairs that look plucked from a racecar, illuminated by LED strip lights tucked behind crevices bathing the room in an otherworldly glow of violet and aqua.

Entering this gaming den is like being inducted to an underground superhero organization or something. It’s a completely different world to what Nile knows. She’s not a gamer. Couldn’t be farther from a gamer. Nile was an art club nerd and her friends were drama club nerds. Turns out Olga has a gamer girl past and that’s how she met Timo. Apparently they met online, playing Dota. DOTA? DotA? How is it capitalized? And there’s version 1 and 2. Olga is dropping all these gamer words that Nile has at best peripheral knowledge of.

“Wait, so you’re saying you applied to college in Timo’s city, and that was the first time you saw each other in person despite chatting for years?”

“I wanted to go out of my town,” Olga replies. “Even though there is a good university in my city. In Novosibirsk I even got scouted to be a model, which paid the bills for a while—but actually, that’s a bad part of my life.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh,” Olga makes a face. “It’s my #MeToo story. It’s not good. It made me quit modeling.”

“Oh my god,” Nile says sympathetically. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m all ears if you need to process anything—or, we can talk about happier things.”

“It’s okay. It’s processed. Timo ‘processed’ the creep of a photographer. I heard he needed stitches. Not that violence is the answer, but sometimes it is necessary. Although it almost cost Timo his position at the club.”

 _Oh my god_ , Nile thinks.

“Anyway, here’s how the spreadsheet works,” Olga continues, “even though I hate spreadsheets. I just think it’s easier for you.”

Gulp. _Guilty as charged._ “Okay,” Nile says, trying to figure out the complexities of INDEX/MATCH. “But, if you could use whatever system you wanted, how would you do it?”

“It would be good to know what programs the clubs are using. I’m not that good,” Olga says. “My skills are rusty. I am years behind everyone else.”

“Do you learn this stuff in Economics?” Nile asks, taken aback. Truthfully, she has no idea what they do in that department.

“Econometrics, to be accurate,” Olga replies.

Nile feels like her head is starting to spin, but this is the state of the modern game. She needs to be comfortable working with statistical tools. In fact, she should be grateful she has a trusted friend who can put on the kid gloves and walk her through the whole damned thing.

At Barcelona, Nile was shown videos and statistics of her performance, but she only needed to read the results. While they have nothing like the elite analytical setup at the top clubs, in their ragtag operation they have Nile, who is detailed and meticulous and great at keeping score, even if it’s in manual notes—she only recently moved to scribbling on her iPad for instant transcription, and they have Olga, who has a brain for math and statistics and can process Nile’s intensely detailed analytical notes into data tables on which she performs regressions and whatever to identify patterns. It’s a blast working with Olga, even if the rainbow lights of the gaming den makes Nile’s head spin—and why does everything have to be in dark mode?

Unfortunately, Olga gets slapped with a three-match ban after a clash with some racist ultras at the match against Luxtra MR. It turns out that the racist ultras aren’t even from their opponent club, who are very apologetic about the affair. The racist ultras turn out to be Milan ultras angered by their recent loss at the Derby della Madonnina and have somehow decided to stalk Nile and Olga in revenge.

The racist fans are reported to their club and slapped with lifetime bans for the San Siro, but because Olga happened to kick one of them in the shins and elbows another in the face, she also gets sanctioned with disciplinary measures.

Olga makes Nile swear that they can’t let her mom know about this. In turn, Nile is inspired to sign up for kickboxing classes at Olga’s Muay Thai gym. Nile also learns that Timo ends up buying out the tabloids to prevent them from publishing anything on Olga’s scuffle. Olga shows Nile some of the headlines the tabloids were planning to run, and boy, some of them are wild.

“Oh my god,” Nile says, not knowing what else to say. It’s a genuine security concern that rival fans can easily get close to them and even harass them because they hated something their husbands did in their day job. The way these tabloids portray it though, it’s as if Olga was some big bad playground bully kicking minnows around.

“I want to frame it,” Olga declares, sounding like she’s proud of...the headlines that almost were? “Violence sometimes is the only answer,” she continues with relish.

Nile looks at her friend, conflicted by the various thoughts that run through her mind. She is not an advocate of violence, and yet her friend is nothing less than a remorseless badass. At the end of it all, Nile just bursts out laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“I...I love you Olga, I really do,” Nile chokes out, in between peals of incredulous laughter. As she says that, she happens to lock eyes with Olga, and they gaze at each other for a while.

“Wow,” Olga remarks. “Why does this feel more romantic than when Timo proposed?”

“I—,” Nile stammers. “I meant it in a platonic way, of course.”

“Oh, _how disappointing_ ,” Olga replies. “I was just about to call the divorce lawyer.”

 _Olga’s so...out there._ Her sense of humor is so dark and borders on nihilism at times. But Nile wouldn’t trade it for anything else. In fact, she is so grateful to have a friend like that in her life. Nile finds herself laughing hysterically again, with the sort of unbridled force of feeling that comes from the pure affection she has for her friend.


	83. més que un club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2027-2028 Champions League Matchday 3: FC Barcelona hosts Inter Milan at the Camp Nou

DIXON  
Is Jordi Ferrer Parella the new Messi? Coming on as a sub at the 70th minute today at the Camp Nou, he transformed the game from an uneventful 0-0 stalemate to an exhilarating affair.

FREEMAN  
Amazing performance for a 17 year old making his Champions League debut. The Catalan side have struggled to find their footing ever since Lionel Messi departed in 2021. Could this be the breath of fresh air Barcelona struggled to find? 

HOWARD  
It’s certainly exciting to hear rumblings of greatness from the blaugranes again. For the past five years, their women’s side has excelled, taking the crown from Olympique Lyonnais to become the Queens of Europe, but the men’s side fell short of even some basic expectations, failing to qualify for the Champions League twice in the past five years. Nile, as a former blaungrana, what do you make of Barcelona’s performance today?

FREEMAN  
Let’s not get too carried away with a debut, but Jordi Ferrer Parella has certainly made a resounding statement of intent. With the senior team, he’s started 5 out of 9 league matches so far, and he’s bringing a renewed sense of hunger and drive to the team. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing exciting things from this youngster.

DIXON  
One of his most memorable moments of the match comes from the lead up to this attempt on goal—look how he skips past the oncoming tackle from Sébastien—so completely unruffled.

FREEMAN  
At risk of having to sleep on the couch tonight, I have to agree it’s a stunning display of skill and confidence. This is exactly what Barcelona fans have been missing since Messi left us.

DIXON  
The failure to defend against the young Barcelona upstart has also cost Inter Milan their captain. Here he is, throwing his body in front of goal in a last ditch attempt to stop Ferrer Parella from scoring.

HOWARD  
Yes, unfortunately Di Genova clatters into Jordi Ferrer, and there is a tangle of limbs, resulting in an ankle sprain to the Italian captain, while the younger one comes off unscathed. Di Genova has to be carried off the pitch in a stretcher, while Barcelona are awarded a penalty. Jordi Ferrer steps up to take the penalty, and wrongfoots Ulatov to put an easy one at the back of the net.

FREEMAN  
We wish Di Genova a speedy recovery. This defeat puts Inter Milan third on the table, behind Barcelona and Tottenham, and just in front of Zenit.

After work, Nile texts Nicolò to check if he’s okay. It’s one thing to get injured, but giving away a penalty while injuring yourself—that’s like the bottom barrel of shitty things.

Nicolò di Genova  
last seen today at 5:48 PM  
**nile:** Wishing you the speediest of recoveries 🙏🏿   
How are you feeling  
**nichi:** I’m okay. If things go well I’m back in a month  
Thank you Nile for your well wishes  
How’s your coaching going?  
**nile:** Coaching has been going well  
Olga’s such a great help  
**nichi:** I’ve been meaning to tell you...  
There’s this conference of coaching at Coverciano  
I'm interested, do you want to go with me?  
Since I’m injured I can actually take the time off  
**nile:** Hell yeah! ✋🏿  
Count me in! This sounds amazing 🤩  



	84. problem-free philosophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coverciano, the headquarters of Italian football!

Yusuf is the one who drops them off at the train station, but Booker insists on tagging along like a lost puppy. Nile stands around to wave goodbye, watching Yusuf pull away from the station as Booker’s sad little face shrinks into the distance. When she’s done, she realizes that Nichi is no longer by her side, and, practical-minded as ever, he’s gone ahead to check the platform number for their train. Thanks to Nichi’s connections, she was able to enrol in this two day coaching conference despite the spots being booked out long ago.

At Milano Centrale, they board the Frecciarossa high speed rail to Florence. It’s remarkable how incognito Nichi is under his normcore—or shall we say dadcore—cap and nondescript utility jacket. They have not been recognized at all, or even if they have, they must have been very politely left alone.

On the train journey, they chat about various things to pass the time. Nile learns that Nichi was never a fan of school, and he’s been making attempts to improve his literacy in order to become a successful coach. The UEFA Pro program at Coverciano requires the submission and defense of a rigorous thesis. While visiting, Nile will be allowed access to all previously-submitted theses in the library, which is a thought that excites her.

“What kind of books do you read?” Nile asks, curious about Nichi’s evaluation of his own literacy.

“Ah, maybe you know Daniel Brown, football biographies,” Nichi replies. “But mostly Italian books. How do you say—ah, gialli—racy novels where your heart beats very fast?”

 _Gialli? Yellow? Racy novels? Where your heart beats very fast?_ Nile’s heart is beating very fast right now. Are you thinking what she’s thinking? But that wouldn’t be an appropriate thing to say.

“Provocative novels,” Nichi continues, and Nile hopes and prays something is lost in translation here. “Ah no, novels of scandal. Aha, novels of crime.”

“ _Ohhhh_ ,” Nile returns. “Crime novels. Thrillers.”

“Yes, thrillers. Ecco, allora, can’t believe I forgot. Detective novels.”

Nichi looks her in the eyes, smiling with relief at having long last found the words that escaped him, and then, for some reason, Nile reacts with a total brain fart.

“Haha, haha, that’s great. I thought—I thought it was…y’know...” Wait, did she really say that out loud? Oh my god how does she take it back.

Nichi seems to catch on to her thoughts, and a wry smile curls around his lips. “Oh no no no, it’s not _that_ ,” he replies pointedly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why my mind jumped there.” Nile’s heart is palpitating. Why her mind went in that _totally_ inappropriate direction she’ll never know. Nichi has a gaze that penetrates the soul and Nile feels like he sees right into her heart, her brain in the gutter. Nile is raised Protestant but she inexplicably feels a need to cross herself and say a few Ave Marias or something.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell Booker.” Nichi replies blithely, leaning back into his chair to gaze into the distance with a small smile stuck on his face.

The conversation turns to football, and Nile learns that Nichi thinks he has a very English style of defensive play, relying on physicality and intimidation, although he only spent a season and a half on loan at Leeds and hated every second of it. It was the loneliest time of his life. He had just been transferred from Genoa CFC to Inter Milan, and they loaned him out almost immediately. Nichi thinks he might have had a better time in a London club—he found British food as excruciating as it is rumored to be, and he had to travel to big cities like Manchester or London to find decent Italian food. His most memorable time in England was when his parents came to visit and he took them to see The Lion King.

“I guess I figured pretty early on that I wasn’t going to be a star, but I could be a star killer,” Nichi summarizes. “Scrappy, dirty, rough—I guess sometimes you just need the bully on the field.”

Nile laughs. “I would have hated you so much if we played together. You’re the worst sort of opponent.”

“That’s how I know I do my job well,” Nichi replies with a good-natured smile. Twinkle toes can’t be allowed to sparkle.”

Nile laughs, thoroughly charmed by Nichi’s turns of phrases in English. Off the field, he’s funny and warm and so considerate. Nile remembers how he made lunch for her after her team lost the World Cup final. It’s very much a contrast to his brusque on-field personality. Maybe he just knows when to turn the murder vibes on and off.

They arrive in Florence, and are picked up by private car and driven to Coverciano, the headquarters of Italian football. It is evening, and the only scheduled event is a welcome dinner-and-drinks chock full of networking opportunities. This place is moneyed up, and they really spare no expense when it comes to treating VIPs, who can be found both in the guest speaker list and in the attendees.

Nile’s go-to conversational starter is based on this ongoing proposal by a coalition of supporters from various teams from the bottom leagues. They would like to remove the seeded draws from the Coppa Italia, and turn it into an FA Cup style format, where small clubs have an equal shot of making it to the final. It would revitalize the game at the lower levels and restore a sense of community across the country. Imagine the big teams playing at third tier stadia, imagine the small teams getting to play in the San Siro. It can be a little bit controversial to bring it up within the literal confines of the establishment, but Nile learns that managers of big teams are tired of the overstuffed calendar and are more open to the idea than she anticipated.

Taking a breather from elevator-pitch mode, Nile searches the room for Nichi, and she has to do a double-take when she sees who Nichi has cornered. Nichi is talking animatedly to Zlatan Ibrahimović, who is replying with equal force of emotion. There is a huge smile on Nichi’s face and—is it just Nile, or is Nichi a total simp for Zlatan? Nile has no idea if she even wants to make herself known and intrude on Nichi’s special moment.

After dinner, they retreat to the on-site hotel to turn down for the night. In the process of booking their spot, Nile learned that it greatly offends Nichi to pay for a separate room when it is unnecessary, and in this case, Nile doesn’t mind sharing. As a seasoned guest to Coverciano, Nichi assures her that the hotel rooms on these grounds are meant for teammates to share and not couples, so there is no risk of accidentally being given a single bed or bathrooms with titillating glass walls. It’s not like Nile’s mind went there, but she notes with some amusement how Nichi brings this up unprompted. For the most part, Nile just feels like a young kid again, like a throwback to the days where she had to share rooms with teammates on away games due to their meager budget.

Out of curiosity, Nile asks how Nichi’s conversation with Zlatan went. Nichi mentions that it was his first time interacting with Zlatan off the pitch. “It was great,” Nichi enthuses. “He was one of my childhood heroes, and then I hated him for a while. But it’s all good now. Did you know that he’s the reason for my sleeves?”

“Oh, wow! I had no idea. What’s the story?”

“Well, this was back in 2017. I was playing against him, and he pointed out that my tattoos had a spelling error, and so it inspired me to get them covered up.”

“Really? I would never have believed that,” Nile replies, resisting the urge to giggle.

Having changed into his pajamas, Nichi is wearing a short sleeved t-shirt that reveals most of his full sleeve tattoos. Nile’s seen enough photos to know that the ink has spread all over his arms and are now accumulating on his chest and back.

“I’m just curious, and you don’t have to answer this, but what you told me about Zlatan got me wondering. You have a lot of tattoos, and they must each mean something. Is there one for Yusuf?”

“Of course,” says Nichi plainly. “But it’s not obvious.”

“Ooh how exciting!” Nile almost squeals. “Is it in a place where a normal person should not be able to see?”

Nichi chuckles. “Well, no, yes, maybe, no. It’s—“ He rolls down his waistband of his black sweatpants just a little, to reveal a corner of an ace of spades playing card near the hipbone. “My pocket ace. That’s what it feels like to have him in my life. There’s more, but I’m not telling you.”

It is pretty discreet, all things considered. It’s not in a place where most people can see—barring a wardrobe malfunction or a malicious pulldown of Nichi’s pants to reveal the full tattoo and...more. The corner of it might peek through from time to time, but it’s not like a person would have been able to discern its meaning without inside information. There’s another one that Nile thinks she spots, a couple of playing dice on his upper arm, where it would usually be hidden by the captain’s armband. On the front faces of each die are the numbers 2 and 6—Nichi and Yusuf’s squad numbers respectively. It’s like playing a game of Where’s Waldo, but Nile thinks she probably shouldn’t mention this to Nichi, and that she should stop sneaking glances at him and crawl into her bed to mind her own business.

Nichi turns off the lights, and then he says to her, “You don’t mind if I stay on the phone for a while, do you? I’ll use earphones.”

Though the lights are off, Nichi’s face is illuminated by the screen of his phone, and Nile finds it charming that he still uses wired earphones. He’s on the phone with Yusuf, of course, but Nile doesn’t actually hear him say anything—is Yusuf doing all the talking?

Anyway, Nile should really stop spying on others, no matter how much fun she’s having finding out more about the elusive captain. She picks up her phone to send a goodnight message to Booker. He’s sent her a whole bunch of random videos documenting his day, but Nile is too sleepy to watch, so she’ll check them tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zlatan Ibrahimović...where do I begin...this one is for the football people I guess. He's a larger than life figure, who's played for both Inter and AC Milan. He's 6′ 5″, and weighs 209 lbs and he has an honorary black belt in taekwondo. He speaks of himself in the third person. He also utters choice quotes such as “Only God knows… You’re talking to him now”. Of course Nichi thinks he's great (except when Zlatan went to Milan and Nichi had to play against him). [Zlatan has a lot of tattoos](https://bodyartguru.com/zlatan-ibrahimovic-tattoos/). Some of these may have inspired Nichi. 
> 
> Given the Old Guard's healing powers, I think tatts would fade pretty quickly on them so it's fun to give them some in AU situations. In fact, I'm getting so many ideas from [Sergio Ramos](https://bodyartguru.com/sergio-ramos-tattoos/), Nicky's player prototype. Yusuf is the ace of spades and Nichi is the ace of hearts. How romantic!! Also, Nichi's favorite animal is the wolf and he's got multiple wolfy tatts except I now sense a Missed Opportunity to have Nile go...wolf...alpha wolf?? alpha nicky???
> 
> i libri gialli...the author started Italian classes thanks to Luca Marinelli and our Italian teacher asked us if we knew what they were. For some reason the class went all quiet on Zoom and when our teacher finally said they were detective novels we all went OHHHH like...somehow we all thought they were trashy books of questionable content. 
> 
> I find it adorable that Nichi refers to Dan Brown as "Daniel Brown" ajsdklad Catholic fan fiction... + Nichi not paying for extra hotel rooms and still using wired earphones oh Nichi...
> 
> You know when you're over 30 years old with a professional job when you start writing conferences and networking events in your fanfic....13 year old me would never (13 year old me would also have been disgusted, like, EW? YOU HAVE AN OFFICE JOB? BORING. GROSS.) But kids, when you get to my age you...LOVE conferences they're a great excuse to avoid normal work for a period of time. Now that everything's online I...attend even more conferences for fun.
> 
> In the process of writing about Nichi's tattoos I realized...Booker...didn't pay any attention to them when he saw Nichi buck naked...maybe his baby bi brain was too fixated on...um...other things....
> 
> Next update...next week I guess! The next chapter's only half ready.


	85. if on a winter's night a traveller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is November winter? The international meteorological calendar says it's not. Our travelers are still in Firenze.

The next day, Nile learns that Yusuf reads to Nichi just before bed, to put him to sleep and to “broaden his exposure to literature”. How does it not surprise her to learn that Yusuf is a literary snob on top of being, well, an art snob, a food snob, a coffee snob, a fashion snob and whatever else you can name? It’s through Booker that Nile learns this information. Her husband tells her that Yusuf is going through short stories by Italo Calvino with his paramour because he overheard some of it last night.

On Yusuf’s snobbery—apparently Booker posted some of the videos he sent to Nile to his Instagram stories, and fans are going crazy. There’s one where Yusuf and Booker decide to do a wardrobe swap challenge. They start out wearing their own clothes, and then the video cuts to them wearing each other’s clothes. Post-switch, Booker gets to wear a sleek Tom Ford hooded leather jacket, Balmain jeans and Ann Demeulemeester combat boots, and he tilts these Moscot round shades downwards to look up directly into the camera, trying his best to look as suave as he can. Standing next to him, sporting a dour and disapproving expression, with his arms folded high across his chest, is an uncharacteristically sloppy-looking Yusuf, clad in an oversized Essentials hoodie and sweatshorts set, finished with tube socks and Balenciaga Triple S sneakers.

For the longest time, Yusuf has been appealing to Nile to intervene with Booker’s more egregious outfits (“make him less fuckboy and more Harry Styles”), but Nile says that she has a blanket policy of not policing what people wear. Nile doesn’t think that Booker’s taste is that bad, he just blows his money on nearly identical items, for example his 2982837 sets of matching hoodies/sweatshirts and sweatshorts/sweatpants. In fact, it actually is kind of a mindfuck to see Booker dressed like Yusuf. He’s lost some of his cuddliness, and in that outfit he just looks like a try-hard. He lacks Yusuf’s panache to pull off the outfit.

On the other hand, Nile knows too well that Booker and Yusuf have the same compulsive shopping habits, so she feels like Yusuf doesn’t get to claim moral superiority even if he’s got style. Whenever there’s a new haul of packages waiting for them by the door, Nile has learned to close her eyes and never look at the receipts.

She shows the video to Nichi, who gets a good laugh out of it. This is how she learns that Nichi has no concept of what Yusuf and Booker actually do when they are “shopping”, much less how much time they spend on this “hobby”. They have this guy, professionally known as a “personal shopper”, who should be more accurately termed a dealer. He’s always sending them photos on WhatsApp of the “latest drop” and they place their orders through him, and somehow no one ever questions how he gets his hands on all these coveted limited edition items. And of course, Nichi is oblivious to this entire ecosystem of transactions that don’t even require a person to step foot in a shop.

“Wow,” Nichi comments, and his eyes dart to the clothes he has laid out to change into for the day. “I wonder how Yusuf gets my clothes then. I let him do all the shopping for me. But don’t you think he gets my taste exactly right?”

Nile casts her eye on Nichi’s crumpled utility jacket and plain t-shirt with crease lines from being recently unfolded. What a fool she is, to believe that Nichi could be relatable. If Yusuf does all the shopping, then he probably spends hundreds of dollars procuring items with the sole purpose of embellishing his boyfriend with some underground street cred, since Nichi is otherwise indistinguishable from a middle-aged dad. For the sake of their relationship, Nile will not inform Nichi on the cost of his clothes. How is it that Olga buys clothes from Zara (okay, well, Olga has brand name labels too...but she mixes the high/low!) and these guys...

During breakfast, Booker greets Nile good morning with a flurry of photos of the latte art he made using Yusuf’s €4000 La Marzocco espresso machine. Yusuf bought the machine as a Christmas gift to himself (go figure) and Booker’s been obsessed with trying to perfect his barista skills ever since. He sends Nile photos of latte hearts both as a corny dispatch of love and a total humblebrag that he’s trying to hone a craft. On her part, Nile slyly forwards some of these photos to her sister-in-law, with the accompanying message of “are you looking to hire a barista? I know someone...”

They have a full day of lectures scheduled, with breakout rooms for workshopping case studies in smaller groups. The lectures are conducted in both English and Italian, with interpreters. There are well-respected coaches imparting pearls of wisdom, and there are academic professors weighing in on specific aspects related to the game. The one Nile found most interesting was the lecture on applying nonviolent communication principles in the workplace. It feels strangely cutting edge to see a roomful of men who might still have a lot of unloaded machismo baggage get told that the most effective leaders project warmth and competence.

Outside of the lectures, Nichi confides in Nile his worries about not being good at school and how he might struggle to cope with the academic rigors of the UEFA A and Pro courses. Nile takes him to the library to reassure him that he can do it if he puts his mind to it, and they check out the work of previous graduates. 

“You don’t need to use big words to describe a good idea,” Nile tries to tell Nichi, riffling through the hardbound volumes to find examples of clear, simple writing to show Nichi. “Also, don’t worry about not being able to find the words. When you feel strongly about something, the words will come. Non ti preoccupare.”

On one breakout session the group decides to adjourn to play a quick round of five-a-side after wrapping up their discussion early. 

“Zlatan wants Nicolò in team,” Nile overhears the 6’5” former striker say, and Nichi totally abandons Nile for the Swedish man. The group is at varying levels of rustiness with the game, but it’s more about the fun than anything else. Nile finds herself coming up against Nichi, and fuck, that guy is scary as hell on the field, even with an ankle knock...that he really shouldn’t exacerbate with this pickup game. In the background, Nile hears her teammates asking her to go easy on Nichi due to his injury, and so Nile relents. Everyone in this country adores Nichi. There’s no way she wants to shoulder the blame of putting him out of commission.

“Rematch when my ankle’s better,” Nichi says, knowing it wasn’t a fair fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cheek of Yusuf to mention Harry Styles when they (Harry Styles and Booker) have the same ex. I imagine Yusuf went through a Zayn phase back in the day.
> 
> What an incredible amount of product placement in this chapter. #notsponsored Also I was...fixated enough to make an [insta post mockup](https://64.media.tumblr.com/733f407beebdfb04e35f42044f813a2e/6d04bc9a5acf3e89-bb/s500x750/258d0b3518b86a11e718b079b540bdbc857c786f.png).
> 
> Yusuf's [espresso machine](https://www.seattlecoffeegear.com/la-marzocco-linea-mini-espresso-machine). Also Yusuf being an Italo Calvino fan is LOL to me. Idk I think Nichi (and myself) need more straightforward stories. Nichi drinks Nespresso and loves it: "What is wrong Yusuf?? Nespresso is perfectly decent coffee. It is 30% of the Italian market, Yusuf. Clearly that means something. Y-Yusuf?? Are you okay? Are you breathing?"
> 
> You may scroll to [the end of this post](https://victimhood.tumblr.com/post/642074197823242241/uhhhh-i-may-or-may-not-have-a-writing-block-which) for Yusuf's outfit that Booker is wearing, and to get an idea of what Yusuf buys for Nichi. 
> 
> Booker [stop buying tracksuits and please just wear the ones you have.](https://www.ssense.com/en-us/men/product/essentials/taupe-logo-pullover-hoodie/6558241)


	86. is this easy mode?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Always remember: Never accept the world as it appears to be. Dare to see it for what it could be." -Dr. Harold Winston

All in all, the conference was useful, even if some of the topics touched on are still too remote for Nile—she’s not at the level where there are millions of dollars at her disposal, but it’s good to get acquainted early with common legal snafus faced by football managers.

Returning from the conference, it sounds like the idea to remove the seeding from the Coppa Italia has caught on with the general public, and it even makes the opinion pages of the national newspapers. Nile marvels about it to Nichi.

“Apologies if I’m being too negative, but I wonder if they realized the match fixing potential of letting smaller teams play.”

“Wow, that’s a really dark thought. But most of the general public just wants to support the underdog, no? And, credit where credit’s due, your fed did a really good job of stamping out the racism in football terraces,” Nile points out.

“Mashallah,” Nichi replies with a serene smile on his face, closing his eyes. “I still have no idea how they managed to pull that off.”

Did Nichi just use an Arabic term? Cute. Nile wonders if Yusuf sometimes invokes Catholic saints in return.

Inter Milan continue to do well, despite missing their captain. The work that Andy made Nichi and Yusuf do with the youngsters is really paying off as they have a very robust and versatile defense. Out of curiosity, Nile asks Nichi if he feels left out as the team gallops on ahead of the pack. He says that he has the team’s best interest at heart, and while of course he wishes he were participating, he’s mostly relieved they’re doing well so he doesn’t have to rush his recovery. 

Between rehab and rest, Nichi takes a genuine interest in Nile’s coaching, and he comes around to Olga’s place to sit in on their strategy and planning sessions. He even agrees to carve out time during the week to give a defensive masterclass to Nile’s players, and Nile gets the highest attendance on record from her squad. 

Nile also uncovers that Nichi has a connection to Timo and Olga that she didn’t know of before—he apparently enjoys gaming with them, since their tastes in games are more aligned. (Is Nichi lowkey throwing shade at Yusuf and Booker? It’s so hard to tell with him sometimes.) They haven’t had much opportunity to game since Polina was born, but they used to do it pretty often. They try to convince Nile to play Overwatch with them, but she declines, mostly because she doesn’t want to be the noob dragging everyone down.

Nichi even volunteers for the Saturday kids football program, and he does a fantastic job of being the ref. Come to think of it, Nile feels like Nichi’s notorious aggression towards refs comes from situations where he got it right and the ref got it wrong. He does have a remarkable footballing brain and reads a game impeccably, even if he’s not a showboat on the ball the way Yusuf and Booker are.

At this session of the kids program, Nile has to deal with a mom who wants to pull her daughter out, because she needs her daughter at home to help with the cooking and cleaning. It’s a stressful situation, since the daughter really wants to continue playing, and the volunteers escalate the issue to Nile. Nile tries her best to connect with this mother, lending a sympathetic ear to the mom’s problems. She gently suggests that the household chores should be spread around all members of the family, and not just the women. In retaliation, Nile is accused of not having cleaned a day in her life, and although it is a red herring fallacy, a derailment of Nile’s argument, she has no defense against it that wouldn’t make her come across as even more privileged. The accusation stings in a way that no insult Nile has heard on the football field ever did, and it’s never a good feeling to be reminded that sometimes you’re just not the right person for a difficult situation.

Life is messy and doesn’t always go your way. The only thing for her to do is run home and cry to her partner, which is every bit as petulant and childish and silly as it sounds but Nile hates that she’s been called out, she hates that she can't do anything more for the girl that's being pulled out of the program but leave the door open for her to come back. Nile gets hit by a bout of serious cognitive dissonance, guilty as charged in her pampered life, where she has to text the chef to ask where’s the peanut butter, the one American indulgence she can’t let go of; where a housekeeper comes by every day and Nile can’t remember the last time she had to refill the toilet paper. It doesn’t stop her from feeling sore and helpless.

“My therapist tells me to separate the sentiment from the expression. I think it is fair to say this woman was just feeling frustration with her own life and took it out on you,” Booker says reassuringly, while holding her close. “You don’t have to let her words hurt you while recognizing that her frustration is valid.”

Huh. Nile turns her head to look Booker in the eyes. “Therapy’s really working for you?” she comments, partly taken aback. Since the end of last season, he’s been seeing this new therapist that Quynh referred him to, as a better match for his actual needs.

“If it wasn’t working I’d stop going,” Booker explains nonchalantly with a shrug, kissing her on the forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(Is Nichi lowkey throwing shade at Yusuf and Booker? It’s so hard to tell with him sometimes.)_ DEAR NILE, THE ANSWER IS YES I'm worse than Nile about games tho I know nothing. Nichi just loves his shooter games. Is it bold of me to think Overwatch will still be a thing in 2026/2027? LOL #1
> 
> The biggest fantasy element in this fic imo is the Italian Fed successfully removing racism from the football stands. Nichi's incredulity at his own Fed is 100% valid. However, the whole point of this fic is a gentler, better version of the world than the one we live in so there we have it. If we don't show the world how it looks like, how will they know that it can be done? LOL #2
> 
> Happy Lunar New Year to those who celebrate! 🧧


	87. inter vs sassuolo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captain returns to the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content/trigger warning: pregnancy complications, pre-term labor

Nichi is back in the matchday squad for Inter. They’re five points clear at the top of the table in late November. It’s still early, but their performances have been consistent and strong. Defensively they hardly felt the dent from Nichi’s absence, 21 year old Daniele Pirozzi filling in admirably for the captain.

St Ambroeus has been doing well too, and the idea that they might have a shot at promotion causes excitement to snowball. Nile and Olga are having their post-match review at the community center. They give the players their match performance ratings and confirm the roster for the upcoming week. The post-match review is where communal meals are served as well, for the players, their families and anyone from the community in need, and it reminds Nile of church in a way.

Being pregnant, Olga makes frequent trips to the restroom, so Nile doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary from her frequent disappearances. It isn’t until their session is over that Olga tells Nile that she thinks she’s been having unusual contractions.

“What? Isn’t this really early?”

“Yes that’s what I thought. I just wasn’t sure if I was imagining things. Do you think I’m imagining things?”

Olga seems remarkably calm, and Nile thinks she needs to nudge her friend into taking this seriously. “Imagination or not, I think it’s safer if you get checked out. Maybe...you wanna call your OBGYN?”

“But...it’s Sunday…I can wait till tomorrow...”

“Baby doesn’t know it’s Sunday!” Nile retorts.

Olga calls up her obstetrician, and after some discussion, it turns out that Olga has been having contractions since this morning but ignored it the whole time. (Jesus, just how high is this woman’s pain tolerance?) The OB thinks that Olga should go get checked out at the maternity ward just in case, as she meets the diagnostic criteria of 6 contractions an hour. Nile insists on driving Olga there, especially since Timo’s stuck in a match that kicks off right about...now. It’s good for Olga to have some sort of company.

“Wait, let me get my stuff,” Olga says, and as she potters to the office to get her handbag, Nile begins googling premature birth situations and what to do—and the more she reads the more horrified she gets. She should definitely get Olga to the hospital, stat. Where the hell is she though? Nile runs off to look for her friend, only to find Olga pondering what snacks to buy in front of a vending machine.

“Olga, what the hell are you doing?”

“The last time I went to the doctor I was in the waiting room for so long and I wished I brought a snack. Do you think I should get gummy bears or Nutella breadsticks?”

“I’m not sure we have time for this, Olga,” Nile tries to reply in a calm way, pushing her growing anxiety away. “Look, I’ll buy you all the snacks you want when we get there. I think we should go now. And I mean NOW.” Nile doesn’t want to stress her friend out, but also...why is Olga taking her own sweet time?

In the car, Nile begins grilling Olga on serious questions. What’s her birth plan, just in case? What does Nile have to do in case of medical emergency?

Olga replies as if she’s just chatting. She was procrastinating on the birth plan because she’s done this twice and assumes it can’t be too different the third time. In terms of medical emergency, Timo has the instructions. Olga can’t remember what she said now, _it must be the pregnancy brain—haha._

 _Oh shit oh shit oh shit,_ Nile thinks to herself. The more lightly Olga treats this situation the worse her gut feeling gets. Olga gets agitated over the most trivial of things but has always treated monumental events with some sort of detachment.

“Hey, think you should tell your mom something?” Despite the gentle tone, Nile decides she has to nudge her friend on every single point.

“Oh yeah, good idea, need to tell her I’ll be late back,” Olga replies.

Fortunately, they are within the city limits of Milan, and it is not a long journey to Olga’s hospital. At some point, Olga says she’s not really feeling anything anymore so it might have been a false alarm. She wonders if they should turn back. Nile thinks they should drive on. They almost argue in the car.

They get to the hospital, and the nurses come by to check Olga in. They put Olga in a wheelchair and she names Nile as her support person, so Nile can hang around while they run through a list of questions about her symptoms and medical history.

Olga’s OB shows up, does a cervical exam, and orders a fetal fibronectin swab. A technician wheels in an ultrasound machine to check on the baby. While waiting for the test results, Nile gets instructions on how and where to pack Olga’s go-bag for a hospital stay. If it comes to that, Nile will make the drive to Olga’s home to pick it up. How will they break the news to her mom, Anna, though? They decide to push off telling Anna for as long as they can. But Anna will need help with the children. Given Nile’s schedule, she can help with the morning preschool drop-off. At a pinch, she could babysit too, although Nile isn’t too sure of Booker’s feelings on that.

The test results are back, and everything is a blur from here. Olga gets hooked up to an IV, and they’re going to start magnesium to try and stop labor, or at least slow it down. They start steroid injections to help mature the baby’s lungs. The nurses are going to push for 48 hours on magnesium if they can. The magnesium makes Olga very sick—she begins throwing up everywhere and all Nile can do is hold her hair back and hold a bin up. The ostetrica comes by to talk to Nile, and whatever the outcome, Olga can expect to be on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy.

Nile opens up her phone to check the football live results—Inter 3, Sassuolo 0. At least the match is going well. She drafts up messages to Timo and to Booker, but holds off on hitting send. She’s gonna wait till the match is over. In the meantime, maybe she’ll get Olga some gummy bears and Nutella snack packs, for when this is all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to tumblr user wings-of-indigo for your invaluable medical knowledge! I was given so much solid info on what goes on in a pre-term labor/maternity ward. If nothing else, this fic has...educational merits at least, I hope.
> 
> Ostetrica = Italian midwife/pregnancy liaison! I found out that [Italian hospitals have this role](https://easymilano.com/new-parenthood-and-giving-birth-in-milan-part-2/) which is pretty unique


	88. cloudy with a chance of falafel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The match is over and Nile finally fires off the messages she was waiting to send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from the previous chapter, same content/trigger warnings for: pregnancy complications, pre-term labor

_Hey Book, Olga went into preterm labor today. I’m at the hospital with her right now. I’ve sent Timo a message about this as well. She’s going to be here for two days at least._

Booker looks up from his phone and sees Timo looking at him, mouth hanging open just a little. Around them, their teammates laugh and joke around the dressing room, oblivious to the drama that is unfolding in Timo’s world.

Booker steps across and puts a hand on Timo’s shoulder. “I got you,” he says in a low voice. “Nile told me.”

Timo nods wordlessly.

“I’m going to take you to Andy. We’ll let her know you might need some time off.”

Timo nods again.

Booker seeks out the boss, and asks to talk to her in private. Andy tells him to meet her in an empty press room, and Booker drags Timo there. They tell Andy that Timo will need a couple of days off to begin with, to look after his family. He’s not sure when he can return to the squad full-time.

Andy understands. She’s an excellent boss, compassionate and competent, and she understands the facts and sees reason. She knows the situation is uncertain, and she has confidence in the depth of her squad that Timo’s temporary absence is not cause for panic. Timo should tend to what’s important and keep her updated so she can adjust the squad accordingly. As for the squad, they decide that it will be good for the team to know the reason behind Timo’s absence, and Andy suggests that Timo should be the one to break the news. As always, she’ll back him up.

The team is gathered and waiting for the bus that will take them back to the training grounds. Andy asks for everyone’s attention, and then it’s Timo’s turn to speak.

“Olga’s in the hospital right now. It’s going to be a very premature baby. I’m going to take a few days off to be with my family, but I might be gone for longer if the situation calls for it. I hope this doesn’t disrupt the team too much, and I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”

There is a heartening chorus of replies from their teammates. _Take all the time you need, Timo. Send our regards to Olga! Our thoughts are with your family at this time._

Timo and Booker are not catching the bus. Booker fires off a message to Nile that he’s going with Timo to the hospital. They get a private hire car and it’s a long ride through traffic from the outskirts of the city to the center. In his mind Booker reels from the whiplash of going from a joyous 4-0 victory to hearing the bad news.

When they reach the maternity ward, Nile gives them a rundown of the events, and Olga’s current situation. Most of the time is spent waiting around and Nile has nearly run through a bag of Haribo gummy bears from stress eating. Olga is being pumped with magnesium which causes extreme nausea, and she’s feeling weak and lethargic as a result.

Timo thanks Nile for taking care of Olga, and he’ll take over from here, but Nile tells him she’ll return with an overnight bag for Olga, and offers to get him dinner along the way. They decide that Timo should break the news to Olga’s mom, Anna. Anna and Timo can take turns to watch over Olga, but if they need help during the switchover—at which point Nile’s eyes meet with Booker’s and he nods— _we can babysit your kids_ , Nile says.

“Oh—thank you so much. I don’t know how to thank you enough.” Timo tells them to take Olga’s set of the house keys with them for the time being.

Booker is in charge of the drive home to give Nile time to decompress. Going to the hospital feels so grim, and any attempts at conversation just dies off. There is so much to process. Nile might be traumatized from the experience, so from time to time Booker gives her a reassuring squeeze—on the arm, the hand, just to let her know he’s there.

They get to Olga’s house, and Nile gives Anna a big hug. Nile’s been over enough times that she’s beloved by Olga’s mom and kids. Booker’s a little less familiar but he tries to project a calm, reassuring manner to help with the mood. Nile and Anna get to packing Olga’s overnight bag, and then Anna decides that she’ll go to the hospital right now, bringing Olga’s bag to her—if Nile doesn’t mind watching the kids for the evening. Anna hopes to be back by bedtime, barring any contingencies.

Just like that, the kids have been entrusted to them. Sasha is five and Polya is 18 months old. Nile says she can stay with the kids if Booker wants to return home and unwind from the match.

“What? No! We do this together,” Booker immediately replies. “That was what I agreed to. Besides, I think you’re the one who’s more in need of a rest.”

“It’s been a long day,” Nile concurs.

It’s Sunday night, and typically the Ulatovs will be having family dinner together, followed by a movie. They text Timo for more info on the kids’ schedule, and he replies that the kids have to go to sleep at 9pm. Sasha has to wake up by 7am for preschool at 8 the next day.

Anna usually cooks on Sunday, since it’s the day off for the Ulatovs’ private chef, Marina. Not having Anna’s culinary skills, Booker calls Enzo and asks if he can drop off today’s dinner at a different address, and is it too late to add on two kids’ portions?

The kids don’t have a real idea of what’s going on yet—they just know that their parents will be away for the night. Booker tries his best to stay positive so that the kids don’t pick up on the adults’ anxiety, and while it’s performative it can’t be fake either—kids are so good at telling when adults are on their b.s. It’s genuine emotional labor that Booker has to pull but it matters for the kids.

“I know Aunty Nile is a coach,” Sasha says, staring at Booker with intense concentration, “but what are you?”

“I’m a midfielder. I play with your dad.”

“You’re not Uncle Nicky,” Sasha continues.

“Uncle Nicky is a defender. We play in different areas of the pitch.”

“Uncle Nicky gives us candy,” Sasha points out. Is this a blatant attempt at extortion? Truly...some kids are the very meaning of precocious.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have candy,” Booker replies. “But do you want to see a magic trick?”

In the background, he can hear Nile snort, while Polya pushes herself about on a buggy shaped like a bumblebee, oblivious to the rest of them. Maybe Booker’s skill level as an illusionist is suitable only for the less mature. Why, he has the perfect audience before him.

As it turns out, Sasha seems to find the magic tricks infuriating, and insists that Booker show him how it’s done. Polya is much more easily impressed, gurgling appreciatively in response, although Booker must be pressed to admit she gurgles at every single thing.

The doorbell rings, and it’s Enzo dropping off some salad, falafel, pita bread and a generous assortment of spreads. Booker thanks him profusely, and makes a note to tip Enzo extra in this month’s pay.

“Meatballs!” Sasha exclaims excitedly, as Booker and Nile set the dinner table.

“Uh, no, these are falafel,” Booker replies. “They’re made of chickpea, herbs and spices.”

“Uncle Nicky makes the best meatballs,” Sasha comments.

Does Booker have to deal with this...uncalled-for comparison for the whole night? He looks at Nile with a tiny pout, and it pushes Nile over the edge into an outburst of laughter she can no longer hold in.

“What’s so funny?” Sasha demands to know, staring at them unblinkingly.

“Uncle Booker wants you to know he is very different from Uncle Nicky,” Nile supplies.

“I like Uncle Nicky,” Sasha declares imperiously.

“That’s okay, I like Uncle Nicky too,” Booker replies, hoping to get into Sasha’s good books by having something in common. It only earns him a kick under the table from Nile. _What? It’s true!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parallels of Nile being told at the coaching conference that successful leaders project warmth and competence and Andy being described as "compassionate and competent" by her underling in this chapter...
> 
> One thing I try to do in this fic is to subtly write in higher standards as the norm... Andy says guilt-tripping bosses are a thing of the past--employee absences are an expected situation and can be planned for. Cishet dads like Timo know their children's schedules because they are active caregivers too. It IS a conscious choice to write him as fully aware of what his kids need to do at each time of the day and be able to hand off instructions. The inverse nightmare is Olga being hounded with questions on how to take care of the kids while being soooo out of it on the hospital bed, which sounds like the grossest nineties/early 2000s kind of bad romcom writing. We are done with this shit. This fic is the future. Pull your weight when co-parenting, esp for cishet men.
> 
> Meatballs vs falafel...cracks me up bc...it's personal for Booker okay? For the record, I'm Team Falafel!! The best falafel in the world (look if you have better recs you HAVE to tell me) is [L'As du Fallafel in Paris](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27As_du_Fallafel).


	89. stellaluna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha continues to unintentionally torment Booker...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from the previous chapter, same content/trigger warnings for: pregnancy complications, pre-term labor

After dinner, they watch the Trolls movie (Polya insisted, it’s one of the few words in her English vocabulary). Nile privately mentions to Booker that it’s not her first time watching this movie, and it’s probably the 20th time for the kids. This is evidenced by how Sasha seems to have some lines memorized by heart, and how Polya jumps up and down at the song and dance numbers. Booker tries to dance along, and gets told off by Sasha for not getting the moves right. Nile throws a pillow at Booker as if it is the metaphorical gauntlet and then stands up to show him how it’s done.

Hopefully the kids are all tired out from dancing and it’s time to put them to bed. Nile checks in with Timo on Olga’s condition, and Timo says they can skip brushing the children’s teeth since that will be a struggle—but maybe they could get the kids to rinse their mouth with plain water? And get the kids to change into their pajamas _after_ , so it’s no big deal if they spill water all over themselves.

It takes some wrangling but Booker manages to get the kids in their pajamas. Polya gets put into her cot while Sasha asks if they can listen to a bedtime story, so Booker tells him to go pick out a book.

Sasha seems extremely disappointed whenever Booker rejects a book due to unfamiliarity with the language. Most of the books on the reading shelf are in Russian, although there are some in various other languages (“My First Book of German Words”, “Strega Nona” in Italian).

Finally, Sasha selects an English book. _Stellaluna_ is a story about the eponymous bat who grows up with birds and then rediscovers the bat community, reuniting with Mother Bat. Returning to the birds, Stellaluna tries to teach her bird friends to act like bats, only for her bird friends to get in trouble. All is well as Stellaluna rescues her bird friends. At the end of the story, Stellaluna reaffirms her kinship bonds with both birds and bats.

The kids seem to have fallen asleep even before Booker’s finished the book, so Booker finds himself in an eerily quiet room with tears in his eyes from the story he just read. Is he overidentifying with Stellaluna the displaced bat, always in between two worlds? Who knows?

Nile sticks her head in the room at this point, done with her phone call. Booker immediately moves a finger to his lips, then points at the sleeping children. Nile nods, and then he stands up as quietly as he can, taking the book he just read with him to show Nile.

“Oh, what’s up?” Nile says when the door is closed. “I bought this for Sasha’s birthday, yes.”

“Oh,” Booker replies. “You...bought it? I was gonna tell you that I liked it.”

“Is it because...you feel for Stellaluna?”

“...Maybe?”

“Oh no, you cried over the story, didn’t you?”

“I guess you can say I did.”

“Oh Books, sweetie, of course you would. You’re such a softie. I love you so much,” Nile collapses on him, folding him into a big hug.

“How’s Olga?”

“No new developments. Anna’s on her way back.”

“Let’s hope it will all be okay.”

“It will all be okay.”

Monday is a day off that the team spends worrying for Timo on the group chat. Nile has to go into the office so Booker tells her he’s happy to be on standby for babysitting duties, but she tells him that Nichi has volunteered to watch the kids while Anna makes another trip to the hospital to see Olga.

Tuesday training goes on without Timo. In the afternoon, the update Booker gets from Nile is that after 36 hours or so on magnesium, the medical team began preparing Olga for active labor. Hours later, Olga gives birth to the baby in a relatively normal vaginal birth without too many complications. The baby is whisked off to the NICU as soon as it’s born. Olga will be monitored closely for any hemorrhage, as most deaths from the childbirth process come from hemorrhage in the week after birth.

If nothing goes wrong, Olga can be discharged in two or three days. The baby will have to stay in NICU until sometime close to their full term delivery date. In the meantime, Olga and Timo can visit as often as they want, and when the baby is stronger, and as long as the adults stay clear of any infections, they’ll be encouraged to interact with the baby.

* * *

[DELETED SCENE/DVD EXTRA]

Timo's parents fly over to help out, staying with the family, and Timo returns to training although he doesn't play away games for a couple of months.

Timo on his first day back at training: Uhh Books can I speak to you privately?

Booker: oh sure yeah wassup

Timo: Yeah....I don't know how to put this, but um, Sasha picked up a bad habit, and when I asked he said it was you

Booker: wait what?? what did I do???

Timo: Yeah uh, when Sasha gets annoyed or angry he's started throwing pillows at people. Fortunately, it is a pillow, so it doesn't cause injury, but it's a violent move (hitting people) we don't want to encourage in our children...

Booker: when did I do that???

Timo: Yeah it's okay if you don't remember. Sometimes with kids, they just pick up on the smallest things we don't even consciously do. Just...be a little careful around the kids next time. But we're cool, yeah? I really appreciate you helping out with the kids. You're a great friend.

Booker: *feeling v.v.v. guilty* okay yeah, you're 100% right. I will be more conscious next time. My sincerest apologies.

***Booker goes home***

Booker: *does something embarrassing/cringey in front of Nile*

Nile: *throws pillow at Booker* *cackles hysterically*

Booker: *SUDDEN FLASHBACK*

Booker: Uhhhh babes I have something to tell you....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit once again to tumblr user wings-of-indigo for the medical knowledge! And for telling me about Stellaluna ([which is a real book](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/786256.Stellaluna))—so it's included here for you!
> 
> I think Booker [dances like John Stones](https://www.instagram.com/p/CHSoOOSgiyS/?hl=en), which is not atrocious but just...slightly embarrassing. (Although Booker would definitely have a footwork-heavy house dance style!) In his mind, Booker definitely thinks he [dances like this](https://twitter.com/itsrenzdlcrz/status/1362402119358111750?s=20) though. (WARNING for uh...male stripper dance moves...[full dance here from 0:32 to 2:50](https://youtu.be/Ud5KnFNxgrw?t=32).) Please ask Nile for her thoughts on this matter. I suspect she lets Booker get away with it as long as he doesn't involve her. Little does she know Booker has fantasies of Magic Mike type situations where she is definitely involved. And then maybe she's ok if NO ONE ELSE SEES. Nile: *buries face in hands* *screams, ashamed at self* can't tell if horny or cringing...
> 
> The Timo/Booker deleted scene is based on a Real Story from my friend's kid...unfortunately during a hilarious joke another friend playfully slapped my friend on the shoulder like HA HA HA YOU DID NOTTT and then...out of nowhere my friend's toddler kid just...appeared and did a drive-by hit on his dad and all of us were like 😱😱😱😱😱😱 NooooOOOOOOOoooo. It's extra hilarious that Sasha just decided to name the wrong person bc when his dad questioned him where he learned it from...he simply remembered Booker's bad dancing and was like "Uncle Booker". Idk about you but I find all of this tragically comedic.


	90. elegy for the arctic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December blows in like a winter storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: pregnancy, mention of abortion

Let’s go back to the days when we thought the world was flat, like a tabletop. Imagine the world as a table, one so big and heavy, made of stone and wood and stardust as it were, that it needs all humans alive to gather around it, in order to pick it up. Why do we need to pick up the table? It’s in a bad spot, people say. Okay. We’re gonna move the table right. No, no wait. We’re going left! The table has to go left. What is left and what is right? The table is round. People standing opposite each other don’t see left the same way. Besides, not everyone at the table has words for left and right. You have to tell them east and west. Alright. We’re going northeast, that’s 45 degrees. Everyone got a compass? We’re gonna count to three, all together now. One, two, three—heave-ho! Whoa, this table is heavy af. It didn’t move at all. Some people didn’t hear. Some people lifted too early and tired out. Some people are called lazy, but maybe it’s for another reason. Maybe at the south-southwest, they got confused and they pulled when they should push.

Try again. I, II, III. Uno, due, tre. Один, два, три. Here goes. It takes all the life out of you but the world moved a smidgen. 

You look around. Wow, for a move that is measured in millimeters, the air sure changed quite a bit. 

The 2018 IPCC special report on climate change gave the world another 10 years to maintain annual emissions at 2017 levels and still have a decent shot of limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius, in keeping with the Paris Accord.

The year is 2027. Emission levels have fallen to a level that the 1.5°C limit is forecast for 2032. Grim, but less grim than before. If we hit the 1.5°C limit earlier than budgeted, the goalposts shift: we will now have to remove all new emissions to push the dial back—and that means going for net zero emissions way earlier than planned in 2050. Net negative emissions are the goal after zero new emissions.

The effects of even a tiny rise in average global temperatures have been known for decades. The operators of ski lodges in the north of Italy, from Piedmont to Friuli, can tell you about this. There hasn’t been enough snow in over a decade for anything resembling a ski season. There are ski days at most, not economically viable to continue operations. Abandoned ski resorts and ski chairs litter the mountainside, a relic of an activity ever more expensive and elusive to participate in.

However, an increase in average global temperature isn’t felt as a gradual warming, like putting your cold hands near a heat source to warm them up. Averages erase the extremities to be more digestible, but the extremities is where the problem lies. When the warming takes place far above, about 10-50km above ground, in the stratosphere, it interferes with the polar vortex. During winter, a stable polar vortex spins within the bounds of the polar front jet stream, an eastward-moving belt of strong stratospheric winds that separates warm tropical air from cold polar air in the midlatitudes. When the polar vortex collapses due to warming in the stratosphere, it sends lashings of cold air deep towards the equator into places it doesn’t usually touch.

Separately, the molecular properties of water means it retains heat for longer, and warming oceans create conditions of their own too, where more moisture is released into the atmosphere late into winter. Recall the #1 rule of the water cycle: what goes up must come down. The combination of moisture and cold air equals snow. 

It is early December and there is a winter storm warning over parts of Europe, thanks to the warming oceans and the collapsed polar vortex. Up to 45 centimeters of snow is predicted around Lake Como, with much higher snowfall expected over the rest of Lombardy and other alpine regions. Had our ski lodge operators been around, they would have much work to do—grooming slopes after the snowfall for the incoming crowds. As it is, the undisturbed snow on the mountains triggers a spate of avalanche warnings, and some roads to the city are preemptively closed off.

It is a Champions League week, although some matches are uncertain now due to weather. Nile made it out of Como earlier in the week ahead of the predicted storm, to crash with Olga at her pied-à-terre in Milan. Olga began renting the apartment so that she could be closer to the hospital where baby Zhenya is cared for in the NICU. She spends about 10-12 hours a day in the hospital, spending time with the baby and pumping milk to help it grow. 

The snowfall in Milan isn’t as nice as up around Como. In Milan, the snow is thin and it turns dirty and icy in no time at all, trampled all over by citizens insistent on carrying on with their daily lives. They are back from the hospital in Olga’s apartment—shoes off, coats off, shake off the flakes and droplets. It’s a sparsely-furnished apartment, but on the coffee table there is a fruit basket, sent to Olga by the players of St Ambroeus. The boys were so worried that it was the excitement from their match that sent Olga to the hospital when they heard the news, although it couldn’t possibly have been since the contractions started way before.

In the city, Olga and Nile have to contend with photos and videos of the pristine snow surrounding their homes. There’s Webster bounding about in the backyard, confused whenever his paws sink into the deep, powdery snow. There’s Effie effortlessly stepping all over, light-footed and leaving the barest hint of a tread. There’s Sunny Mediterranean Boy Booker, for whom snow is a novelty and cause for joy. He gleefully sends Nile a photo of a snow angel he made in the ground.

Timo, Sasha and Polya have built a snowman. Sasha has put on his Elsa costume and twirls around to Let It Go. They have a duck-shaped snowball maker and Polya is putting duck after duck on the picnic table. Timo makes the snowducks and Polya lines them up. It’s snow like Olga hasn’t seen since her childhood. Where she comes from, a deposed madman still dreams of sucking dinosaur liquid from the ground, when the snow has melted away and ice can be broken by steel.

The truth is, Nile had other reasons for coming to the city earlier. The week Olga gave birth was the week Nile was due to have her period...and it was late. Nile chalked it up to the stress of having to help her friend with a premature delivery, but at this point, actually, well—Nile took a pregnancy test at the office and fate, the biggest of motherfuckers, said it’s a yes.

Without telling anyone, Nile made a prenatal appointment with her OBGYN to get things started. She has a tough time facing up to the fact that she is completely freaked out by Olga’s experience at the hospital, and she’s now questioning her own readiness to be a mother. 

“You wanna hear something?” Olga asks, interrupting Nile’s thoughts to show her a video on her phone. It’s of Timo, and he’s playing the piano. It’s a minimalist contemporary piece, Nuvole Bianche by Ludovico Einaudi, at once peaceful and sad through the alternating major and minor harmonies. Timo makes these recordings and sends them to Olga, which she plays for baby Zhenya.

“Does Zhenya respond to the music?”

“We can’t tell, but we read that music therapy may be useful for premature infants so we thought we could try.”

“I have to say, you two seem to be coping really well given all that’s happened. How do you do it? I’m in so much awe.”

“Ha-hah, maybe it looks that way to you, but it certainly does not feel like this to me. I feel just as lost as anyone else, really.”

“Oh, Olga,” Nile replies sympathetically.

“You know, sometimes I just sit there and think, I’m just a baby, taking care of another baby,” Olga continues.

“No, come on, really? You have Sasha and Polya…you seem so amazing and experienced to me.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I look at Sasha’s homework and it looks new to me—I don’t even remember how I learned multiplication, but he has to do it four different ways.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, like array method, repeated addition, multiple groups, number line…”

“Oh my god, I’m so not prepared,” Nile exclaims with growing horror. “I don’t know what any of those are...”

“You just relearn everything with your kid. That’s how I feel, pretty much. I don’t think it’s possible to ever feel prepared as a parent. It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done because things will keep going wrong on you no matter how much you try. It doesn’t come naturally, don’t listen to that bullshit. I thought—I’ve never failed when I’ve put in effort, of course I can ace this by working hard. But this is not school. There’s no exam. There’s only so much you can prepare for. Everything else is winging it.”

“Oh my god…” Nile repeats herself. “I’m not ready...”

“Well, Nile, you’ve got plenty of time. Unless...wait—why do you look so worried? Oh my god. Wait. Are you? Ohmygod!!!”

“Uh, fuck. Okay. At this point, I am pregnant, yes. It’s probably only 5 or 6 weeks. I literally just found out.”

“Oh...this is big news! Wow—such big news! Well, okay, let’s work through this together. Whew, breathe. Does anyone else know?”

“No, you’re the first person I told.”

“Ohmygod!!! But! Wait! You don’t have to keep it you know. If you’re not ready. No shame in that. But I am very sorry if I freaked you out. I mean, following me into the ward was not a good introduction to the world of babies.”

“Oh, no! No! No way. Don’t ever be sorry about that. It’s outside anyone’s control. Plus, I know at least one ostetrica and five nurses by name now. It’s just. Yeah. Maybe I am a little freaked out. I thought I wanted this, and then, I’m like second-guessing everything now.”

“Oh...it’s normal to freak out. Do you know when you are going to tell him?”

“Oh man, oh I have _no_ idea.”

“You know, I believe in telling whoever you think is appropriate. You can tell your mom first, your other friends even. It might be good practice for working up the courage to tell him. He can be the last to know for all I care. He doesn’t need to know that he’s the last.”

“Yeah, the OB mentioned that 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriages. They say some people are comfortable telling everyone right away, some people just tell their spouse and wait until the first trimester is over to tell everyone else. It’s all a personal choice when the time feels right and I should follow my heart.”

“Yes, yes, follow your heart. Don’t worry if the whole thing just doesn’t feel right. I followed my heart to get an abortion many years ago, and I’ve never told Timo. In fact, I just...never told anyone else until now.”

“Oh my god, what?!”

“It’s not that big a deal. Also, I have three babies now so it’s not like you’ll never get pregnant again, unless that’s your choice.”

“Uh, wow. First off—I just. I have to say I respect your choices, Olga, and you are amazing, but wow. I have so much to unpack with everything I’m feeling right now. Oh wow, oh fuck, okay, I’m panicking for real.”

“Take your time, take your time. But not too much time, if you wanna take the abortion pill that is. It’s more effective the earlier you do it. I can tell you about my experience…”

“Uh, oh whoa. Oh wow. Okay I have to stop you right there. I’m kind of curious, but I’m also really freaking out right now.”

“Okay, okay, yeah, no problem. Take your time to think it through. Talk to other friends. Maybe your friends before your mom if you trust your friends. Moms take it very personally and it can get weird. Come back to me if you have questions anytime.”

Nile retreats to her room, and she hyperventilates on her bed for a while, screaming into a pillow. She wonders if this sudden stress would make her lose the baby, and she freaks out even more in an anxiety spiral. She feels sick, and then she starts freaking out over whether it’s morning sickness. She doesn’t want to lose the baby! She doesn’t want to be obvious about her pregnancy signs! And she is so freaked out by the complete lack of control over the process! Two conflicting thoughts in her mind: _I want this, and I don’t know how to cope with this_. Her reflexive worry about losing the baby seems like a strong sign of what her heart wants, and yet when will it be too late to change her mind? She does need someone to talk to. Someone remote enough from the situation but someone who knows her well enough. Not her mom, as Olga advised. Sometimes, when the chips fall...

Dizzy  
  
**Nile:** Hey, sorry if this is kinda out of the blue, but I was just wondering how you’re doing?  
**Dizzy:** Hey, wassup? Something going on with your life?  
**Nile:** Yeah  
**Dizzy:** Shoot away  
**Dizzy:** I’m good btw  
**Nile:** I’m...pregnant  
**Nile:** And freaking out  
**Dizzy:** Also just some heads up that I’m kind of planning to propose to Jay haha  
**Dizzy:** Idk if you wanna be in on the news  
**Nile:** Are you fucking kidding me?  
**Nile:** The hell YES I wanna be in on the news  
**Dizzy:** Dude WHAT  
**Dizzy:** Congrats!!!!!! 🎉  
**Dizzy:** Baby factory is...in business?  
**Nile:** Why...you gotta put it like that? 🥵  
**Dizzy:** Hey it’s your dream  
**Nile:** Wasn’t it ours  
**Dizzy:** Nuh uh it was yours  
**Dizzy:** I said I wanted to care for babies  
**Dizzy:** Didn’t say I want to make my own  
**Nile:** Are you fucking serious  
**Dizzy:** 🤷🏽  
**Nile:** FUCK  
**Dizzy:** Hey you’re not gonna be alone  
**Dizzy:** Also you know Jay just finished a ped rotation right? Go talk to her  
**Nile:** Yeah yeah I kinda knew. Isn’t ped like...years in the future for this...collection of cells?  
**Nile:** Zygote  
**Nile:** Embryo  
**Nile:** Human bean  
**Dizzy:** Whatevs. Just get in touch babe!!!  
**Nile:** Ok, yeah, yeah maybe  
**Dizzy:** Fuck I’ll start the group chat myself  
**Nile:** Sorry… 😔  
**Dizzy:** You know what, you owe me wingman duty now  
**Dizzy:** Sorry not sorry  
**Dizzy:** So I’m thinking, an island retreat, white sands, some snorkeling…  
**Nile:** Turks and Caicos?  
**Dizzy:** You been?  
**Nile:** Nah, just know a few people who have...   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew this is a long one!!! This is one of those milestone chapters I marked out right when I started the fic...and then it became a little too eerily prescient with the winter storm in Texas. Here's a list of Texas mutual aid groups if you want to [send support](https://itsgoingdown.org/autonomous-mutual-aid-groups-mobilize-in-texas-as-death-toll-rises/).
> 
> I am not a climate scientist, so I relied on science journo [pieces](https://www.severe-weather.eu/global-weather/polar-vortex-collapse-winter-weather-europe-united-states-2021-fa/) for [research](https://www.dw.com/en/cold-winter-global-warming-polar-vortex/a-56534450). Please let me know if I got anything wrong! It was [a lot of info to summarize](https://www.ipcc.ch/sr15/) for the Paris Agreement 1.5°C target.
> 
> The title of this chapter is a piece by Italian pianist/composer Ludovico Einaudi. You can [watch a video here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DLnhdnSUVs) where he played the piece in front of a glacier for Greenpeace.
> 
> The piece that Timo plays, however, is [Nuvole Bianche](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvenJKvmDPU), by the same composer. It's deceptively simple but profoundly moving and kind of captures...the drama I want for this chapter.
> 
> Ah I hyped up this chapter so much in my mind I have no idea what the reality of it is like now...but this is one of the "major" (v. ambitious) chapters of the fic...and it's supposed to be a feeling of the inner drama of the human experience...much like listening to a piece by Einaudi... I am very cognizant of what it means to set my fic in the near future, and I find myself grappling with many existential questions on behalf of my characters. One simple answer is that they have children because they have hope, the abridged complex background is of course they are insured by comfortable wealth. On the other hand, my characters also know that they are wage workers and are subject to the whims of capital owners. But it was always my intention to write a slightly better version of the world we know, so you see that recurring a lot in all sorts of thematic riffs...esp in the chapters to come. "Elegy for the Arctic" was always meant to be my thematic lead-in to the final act of the fic!


	91. aïeeee j’ai mal aux fesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter break! Ski trip! Wahoo!

Winter break is here. Inter are top of the table, top in their Champions League group, and come January they will be seeded into the Coppa Italia Round of 16. With luck, in a few years the Coppa Italia would have a less predictable format.

Those without plans for winter break this year are invited to join the boss and her wife in their Megève chalet. Booker has never been skiing in his life and he wants to go. He floats the idea by Nile, who has been skiing a few times in her life and doesn’t mind going, so this sounds as good an opportunity as any other for Booker to try. Booker asks around the squad, and Yusuf and Nichi are going too. Lykon jumps in as a last minute addition, and Quynh says there’s certainly space for them all at the chalet. Since there’s a sizable group, they decide to do a Secret Santa gift exchange for the fun of it. Booker draws Lykon, and he spends a disproportionate amount of time finding the perfect gift.

Before hitting the slopes, Andy makes them all swear to never go on trails that Quynh does not rate them for. Though they may feel like mere humans, Andy wants them to keep in mind that their bodies are multimillion dollar assets to the club and none of them can afford the liability of revenue lost to serious injury.

Booker and Yusuf get it in their heads to try snowboarding, which causes Quynh to sigh and give a resigned shrug, and they split off with a private instructor. It must be beginner's luck, maybe some hidden natural talent, or simply the Dunning-Kruger effect, since Booker starts to be convinced he’s good at this thing. He can do the falling leaf pattern, no problemo, and the instructor is starting him on garlands.

They break for lunch and Booker and Yusuf find Lykon chilling by the lodge with hot chocolate. Apparently he quit skiing early because he wasn’t really getting the hang of things.

“I’m just here for the ‘gram,” Lykon confesses. “The speed of winter sports terrifies me. I was not raised to think it’s natural for humans to go this fast.”

“I did enjoy speed skating in my youth,” Yusuf replies, “but the altitude is really doing my head in. I was not made for this lack of atmospheric pressure.”

The next to enter the restaurant is Quynh, who blows in like a gust of wind. “Is Andy here?” she asks breathlessly.

“No, why?” Yusuf asks.

“Yaaassss,” Quynh exclaims. “I said I’ll race her here. Hah! Hah hah! I traveled a much greater distance!”

At this point, Andy, Nichi and Nile walk through the doors to join them at the table. 

“I won!” Quynh gloats in their faces.

The look that Andy gives her wife, part exasperation and part knowing fondness, is something that makes everyone else crack up.

“For the record, I had to chaperone Nichi and Nile,” Andy declares to the table.

“We said you could go ahead,” Nichi points out plainly.

“Shh, you were not supposed to say that!”

Lunch descends into chaos as too much food is ordered. The boss demands to know who ordered all the food, and Quynh shrugs it off, saying that it was probably overexcitement. Booker holds his tongue, trying to escape notice for his role in this offence. He knows he was one of those who happily vocalized everything that interested him on the menu, but he didn’t think all of it would end up part of the order. He was just throwing suggestions out there. 

“This is too much food, now we cannot exercise after lunch,” Nichi groans, rubbing his belly.

“We can’t just throw all of this away,” Andy frets. “Will anyone eat it if we take it back?”

“You can’t do that,” Quynh gasps. “Not from this place,” she adds in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Yes you can,” Booker cuts in. “Legally, they can’t deny you. They have the food waste laws now.”

Quynh stares at Booker, aghast. “Is this the second betrayal from you today?”

“What?” Booker says. When and how exactly did he betray Quynh? Okay, the snowboarding is one, but—ew, no, Booker is totally fine with taking extra food home—that’s the sort of weird hangup for the older generation… Booker decides he should definitely not say anything further.

“It’s just going to end up in the compost anyway,” Yusuf points out. “The restaurant will be able to compost this industrially, but I’m not sure our chalet compost bin can handle this.”

“Oh my god,” Nile remarks, looking at Yusuf. “You grew up rich.”

Nichi starts laughing so hard he ends up slapping the table. “That’s what I’ve been saying for years…”

Nile turns to look at Booker accusingly. “Did you always know this?”

“What? No! I have no idea! I don’t care about these things!” Booker throws out, a little too defensively. “I have no idea what his parents do. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? I’ve told you!” Yusuf retorts. “They’re dentists. It makes us very middle class. Where do you think the free coconut floss comes from?”

“Oh is that it? I thought it was some sponsor deal…” Booker mutters. It is true that he has stopped buying dental floss since becoming Yusuf’s friend, who has a constant supply of attractively-packaged sustainable dental floss available to take home.

“Is that the one with the cute packaging? I want some!” Quynh interjects.

Andy all but sideeyes her wife. “We can just...buy that, you know. Like regular people.”

“It’s okay, I’ll give you some,” Yusuf says to Quynh in a low voice.

Is this the messiest table at a restaurant? It’s all cross-talk and somehow everyone is yelling instead of using speaking voices. Regardless, these are Booker’s associates. When lunch is over, Nichi is adamant that no one is allowed to do sports for a couple of hours after such a heavy meal, and he’ll drive back to the chalet to put the packaged leftovers in the fridge.

The group disperses, and Booker is left with Nile. Nichi is right, they are too full to be sliding downhill at high velocities, so they take a leisurely walk around town. Nile gets excited on seeing the macaron shop and promptly forgets that she just complained about being “so full she could throw up.” It’s now “I will activate the secret dessert compartment.”

Nile eats half a macaron and wails about being full again.

“You can just throw it away,” Booker says, not feeling predisposed to a half-chewed macaron at this time. 

“Whoa, you know I physically can’t,” Nile retorts. She carefully folds the top of the paper bag over to enclose the half-macaron within, and then stuffs it into Booker’s pocket.

“Hey—what the? Don’t do this to me it’s your macaron. Also, what was all that about, during lunch?” Booker prompts.

“About Yusuf? Was that uncool of me?” Nile asks, hooking an arm around Booker, her hands now freed.

“It was a little...random.”

“I’m sorry it just really struck me at that moment,” Nile tells Booker. “You can always tell how a person grew up by how willing they are to throw food away.”

“Is that so?” Booker comments, not entirely convinced. He’s never really paid attention to this quality, but now he’s starting to feel insecure about it. He thinks about the crumbled, half-eaten macaron in his pocket which he is planning on chucking away the moment Nile can’t see.

“I’ve seen you eat bread of off the floor,” Nile replies, squeezing on his arm to make her point. “But you change a lot depending on your company.”

“Hrm,” Booker croaks, definitely feeling some kind insecure now. Coming from two worlds, did people always see him as a little outré regardless? “You know I’m most myself when I’m with you, right?” he adds, a pathetically transparent attempt at seeking validation.

“Yes, down to every last anxious little nerve ending,” Nile replies, and then gives him a shit-eating grin.

What else can he do but return with a petulant little pout? Nile kisses him and they laugh, and they walk through the snow-covered streets until Nile asks for the macaron again, to finish it this time. Thank goodness he forgot about throwing it away.

At some point, Yusuf is permitted to return to snowboarding, and together with his friend, Booker reports for the afternoon session with the instructor. This time around, it seems that Booker has hit the learning curve where it gets steep, and he’s falling over on his ass all the time. Meanwhile, Yusuf seems to have finally gotten over his altitude sickness, and he’s making these beautiful S-turns all over the place.

Booker is sore everywhere and regretting all his life choices—so what else can he do but whip out his phone for a photo opportunity? “Aïee, j’ai mal aux fesses” he captions, and it’s a photo of him slumped over looking all glum and pouty, snowboard bindings undone, while Yusuf is in the background grinning away, perfectly balanced on his snowboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megève! Such a chichi upscale ski resort for the affluent, but still very local. It's very Quynh. Even if she goes off-piste to up her difficulty level. Quynh is a Rich Girl and her (adoptive) parents are very old school old money French establishment type people, and these people will balk at the idea of doggy bagging food.
> 
> Yusuf of the Low Countries “I did enjoy speed skating in my youth" cracks me up so much bc [speed skating is SOOOOOOOO Dutch](https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/the-dutch-own-a-single-sport-like-no-other-country-in-the-winter-olympics/) like my Yusuf doesn't think he's very Dutch bc he's brown but my guy makes delicious pancakes (this will feature in uh, a side story) and speedskates but coming from a country where parts of it are below sea level I decided to write him as prone to altitude sickness (it me, all my life I've lived at sea level and I've been violently sick when I cross 3000m, stories for another day) although that said Megève is 1100m so I guess at that elevation Yusuf is mildly nauseated.
> 
> Nichi being an Italian Grandpa about not making sports so soon after eating also cracks me up.
> 
> Yusuf's parents are dentists! I have a lot more headcanons about Yusuf's family in this universe but some will be included in future chapters. There are more middle class kids in football these days than people are willing to believe. I have mixed feelings about it, but a lot of it has to do with the transformation of youth football into an incredibly regimented, highly profitable feeder system. Yusuf went to the Ajax youth academy so his football pedigree is impeccable.
> 
> The class dynamics of...rich people getting annoyed when they miss out on freebies...is a real one LOL. Look at me being all Jane Austen writing this "comedy of manners" in a ski resort. Quynh was basically the one who told the waiter to order everything that Booker was excitedly pointing out on the menu, and then she's like *Pikachu face* when Booker is like "yeah let's doggy bag this food" bc that's not what her parents taught her. But also Yusuf is valid when he says they're gonna take it back and forget about it and the end result is dumping it but I'm also p sure that because he said it, Nichi is going to insist on consuming these leftovers...to prove a point. Anyhoo I miss hanging out with a group of friends and discovering how mad everyone gets over these trivial, trivial things just because you were brought up differently (very much informed by socioeconomic status). The fact that Yusuf always forgets to turn the lights off when he leaves a room (this was pointed out by Fabián in an earlier chapter) is very much a consequence of his "comfortable middle-class" upbringing where no one yells at him for being wasteful also...yes imagine what Mr Genovese-level-stingy Nichi puts up with lol. (Nichi: it's ok all my lights are LED now, so even if Yusuf leaves them on, it consumes only 5W an hour which translates to $25 every 25,000 hours IT'S OK I CAN BREATHE) 
> 
> That said, how wonderful is it that in 2027 food waste is industrially composted/maybe even turned into biofuels?? These are things we should start doing!!!
> 
> [Cocofloss](https://cocofloss.com/), if you've never seen it. I took a whole bunch of mini samples from my dentist....and yet I still always "forget" to floss LOL. The conclusion is the cute packaging doesn't...make me more inclined to floss.
> 
> [Ladurée in Megève!](https://victimhood.tumblr.com/post/644051512613617664/megeve-in-january) It cracks me up so much that Nile is the sort to offer her partner a half-eaten macaron bc she can't finish and she thinks they'll want it, and then when they don't want it...she puts it in their pocket bc like...idk why it can't go it her pockets she finds it inconceivable. Nile's pockets are not for storage. Booker is for storage.
> 
> “Aïee, j’ai mal aux fesses” = ouch my butt hurts = HOLD UP HOLD UP did Booker really...caption a photo of Yusuf and himself with "my butt hurts" BC THE ENTIRE YOOKER FANDOM IS SHAKING AS WE SPEAK oh booker you disaster you. what have you wrought. Did you not think this through?????? Are you baiting the fans???? You must have known this would blow up your instagram...and yet you do it anyway...I personally think Booker spent so much time agonizing over whether to use "cul" or "fesses" that he was being self-congratulatory on choosing the more polite form "fesses" that he just...completely missed that he is making the baitiest of baity IG posts by talking about his butt.


	92. a partridge in a pear tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me

Christmas Eve is here, and they get a traditional Ukrainian Christmas Eve meal as a feast! This means no eggs, meat or dairy, and yet everything is exceptionally delicious! Booker’s excited by the vegetables on the menu. As a treat, Quynh asks him to help her choose the wine, and the cellar is unbelievably well stocked—it turns out to be Quynh’s family cellar, kept under lock and key in usual circumstances.

“Aren’t you afraid this stuff would be lost on...this lot?” Booker asks, with a nod in the general direction of where the others are. Apparently, Yusuf and Nichi only started drinking when Booker waltzed into the team and wouldn’t stop pouring glasses for the entire table. Lykon isn’t supposed to drink, and Nile can’t go overboard or it might trigger a flare-up.

“Good point,” Quynh replies. “You know, Andy still does the thing where she sniffs the wine and then says…’Smells grapey’.”

Booker tries his best to suppress a snort. “Unless it’s muscat…” he says to Quynh, the gentlest of insinuations. ‘Smells grapey’ sounds right in character for the boss, who has a very...dry sense of humor.

“It’s not wasted if you’re drinking,” Quynh generously offers. “Go ahead, take your pick.”

It’s like being set loose in a candy shop! Booker asks if there are bottles he absolutely cannot touch, and Quynh says she’ll let him know if he touches one.

“What do you think of this?” Booker asks, pulling out a Vincent Paris Cornas magnum bottle.

“Ooh you know what, take the 2009 Clape instead,” Quynh replies. “Let’s _go off!_ ”

“Ok Boomer,” Booker jokingly replies.

“As an early millennial, excuse you!” Quynh huffs indignantly.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Booker quips lightly. “So...what’s your Harry Potter house?”

“Again, excuse you! We don’t fuck with TERFS in this house. I am a Tolkien gay, FYI. Andy and I had a Beren and Lúthien-inspired wedding...”

“Sure, show me the pictures anytime,” Booker says. “But let’s get back to adulting.”

The look on Quynh’s face is… Well. Booker knows he’s in trouble so he drops the bottle in her hands and scampers out of the cellar as quickly as he can, snickering all the way.

Dinner is absolutely delicious. Booker doesn’t quite understand the definition of fish as vegetarian, but apparently it’s a thing. The meal finishes with jelly doughnuts called pampushky, which is Booker’s favorite item since he is prohibited from eating the kolach, a braided bread surrounding a candle. From time to time, Booker gets called out for looking forlorn over the forbidden bread centerpiece, but he has enough self-control to leave it alone the whole night.

It’s time for the Secret Santa gift exchange! They go with the variation where your Secret Santa presents you with the gift and you guess what it is before you open it. Booker gets asked to go first (“Why me?” he protests, to no avail), so he sheepishly presents his gift to Lykon.

“Um,” Lykon says, shaking the box to listen to its contents rattling about. “I’m gonna say it’s sneakers, but that’s definitely way over budget.”

Booker shrugs. “I thought the budget was...a guideline.”

Yusuf slams a fist on the table. “Oh, of course, _of course_. Of all the people—yes, it has to be Book who thinks the budget is arbitrary. Why can’t you make the playing field even for the rest of us, huh?”

Lykon’s eyes widen. “Oh, I’m genuinely excited about my present now. This is gonna be good stuff.”

“What, just because it’s expensive? Not fair,” Yusuf wails. “Look if I had known I would have gotten something else, something real nice…”

“That’s why we have the budget cap! It was to avoid this futile escalation in the gift war,” Andy tries to intervene.

“It’s ruined now! Book ruined it!” Yusuf hurls accusingly. “He should be disqualified.”

“Look, just consider part of it like...the Secret Santa gift and the rest of it a personal gift,” Booker mumbles, waving a hand. “I mean, how did you know I didn’t just put some shoelaces in that big box...actually damn I should have done that…that’s a brilliant idea...”

“Wow! I have some real good shit!” Lykon exclaims with delight.

“Let’s all agree to give Booker a pass on this one, okay?” Andy tries to make peace, slightly exasperated. She takes a huge gulp of wine, perhaps to cope with her dismay.

“ _Cheat_ ,” Nichi spits out in a low, quiet tone, squeezing in the last word on this matter.

Lykon rips open his gift with aplomb, and parades the brightly-colored sneakers for the entire table. “How did you know? How did you know?” he gushes with excitement.

“Uh, I heard you mention you wanted it.”

Both Yusuf and Nichi have laserlike glares fixed on Booker right now, so intense it could burn holes through his body. “Moving on,” Booker declares, clearing his throat. “Who’s next?”

“My gift is for Quynh!” Lykon announces, and pulls out a squat cylindrical object wrapped in brown paper.

“Oooh,” Quynh replies. “Is it some kind of jam or preserve?”

“Here, take it,” Lykon says, handing the package to Quynh, who shakes it.

“Spices! Or something dry and flaky.”

“Close! Hand-harvested Icelandic sea salt!” Lykon reveals.

“Oooh it’s something I’ll actually use,” Quynh says, nodding with approval.

Quynh’s gift is to Yusuf, and it is a tissue dispenser in the shape of a cat, and the tissue is dispensed from the cat’s butthole.

“Wow,” Yusuf says, flabbergasted. “This is very much in keeping with the spirit of our Secret Santa as _originally intended_.” He throws Booker a pointed look.

Yusuf’s gift is for Nile. He hands her a very nondescript cube.

Nile shakes it. “It makes no sound,” she says. “But I can sense some heft, so it’s not just air.”

Yusuf begins laughing and doesn’t stop.

“Wow,” Nile comments, feeling wary of Yusuf’s unceasing guffaws. “I’m just going to cut to the chase and open it.” She unwraps the gift, opens the box, and...from the box she extracts the most unfortunate, misshapen [Pikachu](https://i.ibb.co/nPZ0pb9/Screenshot-2021-02-28-at-11-41-07-AM.png) that Booker’s ever seen.

Yusuf is still laughing. He’s laughing so much he’s wheezing by now. “Don’t...you...think...he looks...familiar?”

At this point, Nichi barely suppresses a snort. Nile flips the Pikachu left and right, up and down.

“I...don’t get it…” Nile confesses.

“It— _cough_ —looks— _hack_ —like— _wheeze_ —Booker, no?” Yusuf is barely coherent.

“What? NO,” Booker practically yells.

Nile presses the deformed Pikachu to Booker’s head for a side-by-side comparison. At this point, Andy bursts into laughter.

“I can see it, I can see it,” the boss yells with unexpected delight.

“Mmm,” Nile says noncommittally. “Maybe it’s Booker when he first wakes up. But he gets better as the day goes on.” She throws him some kind of self-satisfied smile for saving his pathetic ass, and then she continues nonchalantly, “I mean, I think he’s really good looking right now.”

“Might be the wine,” Booker throws out—he can do this as well. He can throw down a self-deprecating joke when the occasion calls for it.

This time it is Nichi who starts laughing. Oh, okay, Booker had no idea the captain is such a fan of his jokes, but he’ll take what he can.

“Alright, my turn,” Nile declares, rubbing her hands together with glee. “My gift is for Andy! Here you go!”

“Ah…” Andy draws out her assessment. “It seems to be a picture frame of some sort. But what is it of? Live, laugh, love?”

“Whoa,” Nile replies. “Close. Think along those lines.”

“Meh, I’ll just open it,” the boss says. The frame says “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss” in bouncy modern calligraphy. “Wow...I have no words,” she concludes. “Okay, Nichi, here’s your gift.” She slides a flattish package across the table.

“It’s a box,” Nichi says with a completely neutral expression, meticulously peeling the wrapping paper apart with minimal damage. “Ohh nice, it’s a desktop trebuchet. Thank you boss.”

“Wow, you guys all suck at guessing,” Lykon says. “You don’t even try.”

“I guess that leaves Booker without a present,” Nichi continues, deadpan as ever. “Sorry Book, I just procrastinated and procrastinated…and then...oops.” Nichi does an exaggerated shrug.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Booker replies, because it’s stupid to care about these things—but the moment he thinks that he realizes that he does care, and there is a confusing knot in his stomach, and then—

“I’m kidding,” Nichi says, breaking out into a huge grin. “Did you really think I’ll forget about you just like that? Ecco, your gift.”

“Saint Nick has judged that you were nice this year,” Yusuf adds on.

“Saint Nick thinks you have been naughty this year, Yusuf,” Nichi says flatly, and Booker pretty much spits out the wine he was sipping. Is that a blatant attempt at flirtation wrapped under the guise of Nichi’s unnervingly neutral tone? It’s delivered so evenly, so devoid of passion, but if you knew—you knew? Booker has no idea what the rest of the table thinks but Nile seems to have caught on to the joke too, for she buries her face in Booker’s shoulder to stop herself from laughing out loud.

“Okay,” Booker says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see what _ahem_ , Saint Nick has deemed me worthy of this year.” He tries to open the packaging, gently at first, but then gets frustrated by the sticky tape and just rips it open.

“Duuuude,” Lykon yells. “You didn’t even try guessing!”

“Fuck guessing,” Booker dismisses. “Ah, a box,” he says, with a pointed look at Nichi. “Just what I wanted.”

“Open the box,” Nichi says, with a touch of his authoritative captain’s voice. Is he ordering Booker about for something like this?

“Sure—of course,” Booker mumbles reflexively, not wishing to upset the captain. He lifts the flap closure thing on the box, and then flips up the lid...and...it’s a novelty mug.

Booker stares at the mug blankly. “#1 Dad…” he reads, not a particularly...interesting message? Is it because Nichi has a dad sense of humor? Or is it for Webster and Effie? Or is it a generic novelty mug as a joke? It takes him a while to realize the whole table’s gone silent. Why? he thinks, and he looks at Nichi for further explanation. Nichi’s nodding and winking at him, like Booker should know what’s going on, and it takes him even longer to realize that Nichi means to get him to look at Nile, who is seated next to him, so, you know, direction-wise, you’ll have to forgive Booker for being a little slow to discern the exact point of reference, but—

Nile is hunched over, one elbow on the table, pressing into her mouth with her knuckles to stifle any sound and—

Booker stares at the mug

—he stares at Nichi, who smiles and nods

—he stares at Nile, who smiles and nods.

...what

What.

WHAT.

“Are you fucking serious?” he blurts, nearly dropping the mug, which would have broken it.

Nile starts shaking, and she’s obviously trying to stop laughing, but she can’t.

“Wallah, it’s true bro.”

“Can we finally say congrats now? Congratulations, félicitations, jubilation, condensation,” Lykon pronounces the last four words in a French way.

“Dani...Dani was right,” Nile wheezes, when she’s finally calmed down enough. “She said you would never notice I stopped drinking—you only notice when people have depleted their wine glasses so you can refill.”

“What? So...like...everyone knew before I did?”

“I don’t know about the rest, but issa yes from me—the moment I saw the mug I just knew,” Lykon declares, snapping his fingers. “But you took like five whole minutes to process that one. So I knew five minutes ahead of you, yes.”

“I might have told Nichi and Andy,” Nile reveals, “but it was just so I could engineer um, the announcement. We just wanted to make sure Nichi’s gift to you was last.”

“Said accomplices might have let slip...this secret...to their partners,” Yusuf throws in. “I mean, some things are kind of hard to keep to yourself.”

“Wait, what?” Lykon blurts out. “Am I missing something here? Because...that statement implies…Yusuf is to Nichi what Quynh is to...”

“Oh, shit, I thought everyone here knew,” Yusuf gasps.

“Dude, Yusuf, you suck. You can’t even keep your own secret and you kept this one from me?” Booker seizes on the opportunity to casually insult his friend, just to remind him that they are equal in dumbassery.

“Wait, are you for real? How come everyone knew except me?” Lykon demands to know.

“Long story, long story,” Yusuf tries to wave away.

“Whoa,” Lykon says, eyes darting around as he tries to process all the information that is new to him. “I mean, is it me, or is it actually super cool that Yusuf and Nichi...wow, so much respect for you two...I mean, it must not be easy. We all know how it’s like out there. That’s so impressive. Wow, I just...this is unlocking new levels of love and admiration…”

Nichi shifts around, visibly uncomfortable.

“Baby!” Booker randomly interrupts, to change the topic. “What should we name our baby!”

“Isn’t it...kind of early to be talking about that?” Yusuf remarks, thick with skepticism.

“That’s kinda true, technically I’m not past the first trimester, I’m just...kind of being hyped up way early...very American of me…” Nile babbles.

“Oh no, sweetheart, never apologize for that,” Booker says. “I want to share in every part of your journey…”

“...Wow. My teeth just fell out from how sweet that was,” Yusuf says.

Booker mock-frowns at his friend. “Well, that’s not a problem for you innit...because your parents...are _dentists_.”

“So glad you remembered, mon mec,” Yusuf replies.

“I just had the thought. Your baby should have an Italian name,” Nichi suddenly pipes up.

“Uh, why?” Booker asks pointedly—what a displeasing idea.

“Because…it was Made In Italy. Haha,” Nichi concludes, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“We will take this into consideration,” Nile diplomatically intervenes, before Booker can say anything. He resolves to check on whether there’s anything in the laws that say a baby born in Italy is automatically granted Italian citizenship, because he’ll be damned if Nichi tries to steal his offspring for the azzurri.

“Okay, if everyone’s dropping big news,” Lykon begins hesitantly, “well, I’m genderqueer. He/him pronouns are fine for now, but I get pretty weirded out being called a guy or man. I kind of prefer to exist...without being perceived, but that’s not always possible.”

“Your shoes make you very perceptible,” Booker remarks offhandedly. “But sure, we love and support you, our sibling-in-arms.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling us, we’ll do our best to make you feel comfortable and as close to your true self as we can,” Yusuf states.

“Wow,” Quynh remarks, a smile spreading all over her face. “This is a very queer table. Something about this pleases me greatly.”

“Birds of a feather,” Nile says, slipping her hand into Booker’s under the table.

“The new guard,” Andy says, nodding slowly. “We’re the new guard of football.”

“To the new guard,” Nichi declares, raising his glass.

“The new guard...and Booker,” Yusuf says with a chuckle.

“Hey, I vote we give him honorary membership,” Lykon replies.

“Just because he gave you nice shoes?” Yusuf retorts.

Booker doesn’t even realize he’s forgotten to breathe until everyone at the table laughs at the joke. He releases the tension he’s been holding inside in a prolonged sigh, and everything is okay because Nile knows, and as long as she’s there with him, hand in resolute hand, it’s all the assurance Booker needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ukrainian Christmas Eve dinner!](https://suburbangrandma.com/ukrainian-christmas-eve-tradition/) A 12-course, meatless meal! [Jelly filled pampushky](https://suburbangrandma.com/ukrainian-doughnuts-annas-recipe/) and [kolach bread](https://www.ukrainianclassickitchen.ca/index.php?topic=4961.0), which is not eaten until Christmas Day itself.
> 
> Technically, Ukrainian Christmas should be celebrated on the Julian calendar, but their winter break runs over the Gregorian dates so this is Andy's...French chalet version lol.
> 
> Booker [being savage](https://www.newsweek.com/tiktok-twitter-social-media-gen-z-millennials-1510835) to...Old Millenial Quynh was so hard to swallow. Quynh is born in 1982, which does make her a millenial, although one of the older ones lol. The wine that Quynh asks Booker to take instead is roughly 3x the price of the bottle Booker suggested, bc Booker is a polite boy who wouldn't go for the outrageous stuff directly.
> 
> Credit to itsrottenvibes/spacesweepers for alerting me to [Miss Shapen's Electric Home for Misfit Pikachus](https://space-dementia-muse.tumblr.com/post/643761893782306816). [Bookerchu](https://i.ibb.co/nPZ0pb9/Screenshot-2021-02-28-at-11-41-07-AM.png) is the first one ("he is suffering").
> 
> Who knows how well "gaslight gatekeep girlboss" will age by 2027, but maybe it makes it even more hilarious as a Vintage Meme.
> 
>  _“Might be the wine,” Booker throws out/This time it is Nichi who starts laughing._ Lol Book it's bc Nichi KNEW Nile hasn't been drinking the whole night asldkjadslds
> 
> [Jus soli laws for birthright citizenship](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jus_soli)—Italy is not one of these countries so 1er Booklet is safe. I might have given spoilers to 1er Booklet's name on my Tumblr tho, but I'll refrain from repeating it here (you will learn). Italy has [jus sanguinis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_nationality_law) laws which...tbh Provençal Booker is very likely to be able to meet the requirement since there is no generational limit going backwards. This is also a "loophole" often [used by footballers](https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/23/sports/soccer/luis-suarez-italy-citizenship.html) to gain EU citizenship to play in the European leagues.


	93. make it make sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuf's annual Xmas tradition

It is Christmas morning, and it is time for Yusuf’s annual gift ritual! Under the customary terms and conditions, as Nichi explains it, Yusuf is allowed one purchase for himself every Christmas, on which Nichi cannot offer a single opinion, good or bad.

“That’s because you can make compliments sound like insults,” Yusuf says to Nichi, because it’s worth stating out loud.

“You flatter me,” Nichi deadpans.

One year, Yusuf got the Maserati, and last year it was the espresso machine. The espresso machine is totally worth it, Booker enthuses, and he tries to convince Quynh that she needs to upgrade from Nespresso. Quynh explains that the house uses Nespresso because her family rents it out as a vacation home. It would suck to leave an espresso machine out only to see it destroyed by guests who don’t know how to use it.

“I think Quynh should get the Kazaar capsules for the Nespresso. They are my favorite,” Nichi begins, “but I cannot offer any opinions on La Marzocco espresso machines. Ever.”

“Please,” Yusuf adds on. “Please never say anything.”

“So what are you getting this year, Yusuf?” Nile asks.

“Hmm, I’m undecided, but I’m thinking, maybe a pot of vantablack paint.”

“Eurgh, why?” Booker questions apprehensively, not that he knows what it is. It just sounds...shady. As the words come out of his mouth, he accidentally locks eyes with Nichi, and for a brief moment Booker gets a window into the captain’s beleaguered, anguished soul.

“It just seems like the kind of substance you wanna keep around to show people, like some sort of contraband.”

“You can’t buy it as a private individual,” Nile explains. “It’s sold as an industrial coating.”

“That’s exactly why,” Yusuf replies, kicking back in his chair.

“Hey, they once painted a BMW with vantablack,” Booker points out, scrolling through his phone, having decided to google vantablack so he knows what’s going on. “Guess which one of us here has the BMW?”

“Zitto,” the captain hisses, kicking Booker under the table.

“Anyway, I’m taking suggestions,” Yusuf declares.

“I think you should buy some Murano glass objects, the really fantastical ones,” Nile enthusiastically attempts to enable Yusuf. “Just get on 1stdibs, you’ll have so much fun there.”

“What is this, Nile?” Nichi says, aghast. “I do NOT want freaky dolphin goblets in my life.”

“Are you insulting your fellow countrymen, the widely-revered glass masters of Murano?” Nile parries with a meticulously crafted repartee.

“Venetians, I am insulting Venetians,” Nichi clarifies, with a curled lip.

“Santa Maria madre di Dio,” Yusuf interjects. “Nile Freeman you are a genius.” He is scrolling through his phone enthusiastically, and he flips his phone over to show a dizzying array of lurid glass forms. It’s a “Picasso-inspired” glass decanter and tumbler set.

“How is this...2000 Euros…” Nile says, as if she wasn’t the one who led Yusuf down this rabbit hole.

Nichi instantly claps his hands over his ears. “Lalala...lalalalaaa,” he sings to himself, loudly and pointedly.

“Alright that’s it,” Booker declares, standing up to leave the table. “I’m gonna hit the slopes. Join me if you want.”

Nichi practically leaps out of his chair, seizing the chance for escape. “I’m going! I’m going! Wait for me.”

In the end, everyone ends up joining Booker, and they end up splitting to their usual groups. Nichi and Nile are off with their skis on intermediate slopes, and Yusuf and Booker head to the beginner section with their snowboards.

They hop on the ski lift together, an enclosed little cable car with just enough room for two.

“So,” Yusuf opens the conversation. “Fatherhood, huh? How does it feel knowing you’re gonna be a dad?”

“Oh,” Booker says softly. “It still feels pretty unreal. But I have months to get used to this news.”

“Yeah,” Yusuf offers in reply. “I guess I’ll never know what that’s like…”

“Hey, there are ways you can do it—“

“No. We’ve discussed it. It’s no. Happy to be an uncle though.”

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely part of the family. You’re gonna be the best uncle.”

“It’s gonna be tough competing with Nichi.”

Booker laughs. There is a smile on Yusuf’s face, but then he’s staring out wistfully at the snow-capped vistas beneath them as the cable car rises serenely up the mountainside.

Booker shifts around, fiddling with the ski pass dangling from his zipper.

“Hey, um,” he begins nervously. “You know I’m uh, I’m actually uh, half gay.”

“What?” Yusuf squawks, head whipping over to look at Booker. His eyebrows knit into a frown. “Do you mean like...you’re bi?”

“Yeahyeahyeah,” Booker replies, as if trying to sweep it under the rug.

“Why do you have to phrase it like that man,” Yusuf says skeptically. “But, you know. Cool. You’re valid. I love you.”

“You...love me?” Booker echoes vapidly.

“Whoa. Wait. I gotta stop you right there. I— Dude, you are SO NOT my type.”

“Um, yeah I think that much is obvious,” Booker remarks.

“Wait, what?” Yusuf says, and then he stares out the window for a long while, as if questioning his reality.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Booker hastily tries to patch things up. “I’m just. I’m a little in love with every one of my friends, okay? It’s just how I am.”

“Interesting,” Yusuf comments, scratching on his growing-out beard. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, we’re just friends. That’s the boundary. That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, that’s cool. I still love you, for the record. Just…in the manner of bros.”

“A definition that changes throughout history,” Booker points out as a joke, and it gets Yusuf laughing.

The cable car reaches the disembarkation point, and Yusuf and Booker step out into the mountainside. They stomp heavily in their moon boots to a nice clear space where they can strap on the bindings.

“Hey,” Yusuf pipes up, as he attempts to rock himself up to a standing position on his board. “Since we’re in the middle of this heart to heart, I think I should probably tell you I’m gonna leave this transfer season.”

_What?_

Booker’s still trying to get his bindings done and he looks up in surprise at his friend, who happens to push himself up with so much alacrity he also begins uncontrollably sliding downhill.

 _Whattttt????_ Booker feels like yelling, crying, throwing a tantrum, caught off guard by the exploding bombshell of a reveal, as he watches Yusuf in his tangerine orange jacket shrink smaller and smaller, the figure of his best friend slipping farther and farther from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The vantablack BMW.](https://www.bmw.com/en/design/the-bmw-X6-vantablack-car.html) You may have seen the Tumblr post on vantablack and it's various additions, but here's a piece on the [health dangers of color pigments](https://www.vice.com/en/article/9anvn5/kapoor-vantablack-controversial-color-history) and why you wanna be careful before playing with random pots of paint.
> 
> Nichi drives a BMW because he wants absolutely nothing to do with the Agnelli family (who own Juventus).
> 
> The [dolphin form](https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/dining-entertaining/glass/set-of-eight-venetian-dolphin-goblets-murano-glass-wine-water-stems/id-f_3744702/) is one of the classic Murano glassmaking forms (particularly by [Salviati](https://www.etsy.com/listing/919009732/pair-of-salviati-murano-hand-blown)...and looks nothing like a dolphin), and I am forever reminded of [this evergreen tweet](https://twitter.com/thedirtbird/status/1256821624843710464?lang=en). For the record I am a bit of a glassware enthusiast but do you want me to go on about this or no... At the very least I hope you folks understand that when I make fun of something it's because I love it and can knowledgeably defend it.
> 
> [The Picasso inspired glass tumbler set](https://www.1stdibs.com/furniture/dining-entertaining/glass/giuliano-tosi-pablo-murano-glass-decanter-tumbler-set/id-f_14000372/)
> 
> I apologize for putting Yusuf in orange but I love color coding characters. Here are their ski jacket colors: Nichi is blue, Yusuf is orange, Nile is purple, Booker is yellow, Quynh is red, Andy is skyblue, Lykon is in a metalic gold puffer.


	94. please don’t take my sunshine away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tu sei l'amore, il solo amore

> Yusuf Al Kaysani has been sold to Barcelona for €20 million. It says something about Inter Milan’s depth in defense that it is no sweat down her back for manager Skifska to lose one of the team’s most experienced defenders.
> 
> On the other end, Barcelona have been struggling below expectations for years now. For this, the club attempted to pull off the Hail Mary to end all Hail Marys. Pep Guardiola has been coaxed out of retirement, and his first act has been to busy himself with a wholesale cleanout of the beleaguered side. It seems that he has big plans for Al Kaysani, who returns to Barcelona as one of the oldest players in the refreshed squad.
> 
> Al Kaysani moved from his boyhood club of Ajax to the Catalan side in the summer of 2017 as an attacking wingback full of promise. He was dogged by disastrous mistakes for every moment of brilliance he displayed, and struggled to earn a consistent starting spot. He was eventually loaned to Inter Milan in January 2020 in a move that would become a permanent transfer.
> 
> At Inter Milan, manager Conte shuffled Al Kaysani between several positions, where he filled as needed due to his versatility. However, unbeknownst to the entire world, the coronavirus crisis would soon loom large and put a stop to games for over three months. The extended pause seemed to have given Al Kaysani time to reset, and when play resumed, he found his groove as a more defensive-minded fullback. The loss of compatriot Stefan De Vrij to an ACL tear in November 2022 led to Al Kaysani filling in as part of a formidable back three in the historic 2022/2023 season, where Inter conceded just 15 goals in 38 games for the league. 
> 
> Under Manager Skifska, he has been returned to a quasi-attacking role down the flanks with an incredible work rate and stamina that doesn’t seem to flag in spite of his increasing age. At this stage in his career, to be offered a chance at redemption with the Catalan side is an honor bestowed to few, but all eyes will certainly be on whether Al Kaysani can truly pull it off.

It’s Nichi who messages Nile first.

Nicolò di Genova  
online  
**nichi:** Cesare’s depressed  
I don’t know what to do  
I guess he misses Yusuf too much  


Nile drives over to Yusuf’s house, with Booker and Webster in tow. It’s Booker’s idea that Webster might be able to do a better job of cheering Cesare up, dog to dog, and at this point, they’ll try anything.

It hasn’t even been a week since Yusuf packed his bags. It was, according to Booker, a tearful day at the training ground, but as Nile finds out from other sources—it was Booker who did most of the crying. Some of the younger guys said, well, he’s losing his best friend, of course it’s tough. And it’s sweet that the young ones are so cool with letting a person express their emotions—it’s great that no one’s giving Booker grief for being soft—but something kills Nile inside to think— _what on earth was Nichi thinking, the whole time?_

Yusuf packed his bags on Thursday. He flew to Barcelona on Friday. He wasn’t cleared to play until Sunday, which meant he missed the match against Villarreal on Saturday. Inter Milan played Sampdoria away that same weekend, so today is the first time Nile sees the boys since Yusuf left. It’s the bluest of Mondays, the final day of January, foggy and drizzly and bitterly cold.

Yusuf did leave it to the last possible moment to depart the club, even though Barcelona made their intentions known right from the opening of the transfer window. Nile has all these mixed feelings about it, conflicts of allegiances to her former club and her husband and friends. It pains her that the men’s team at Barcelona have been languishing for so long, and getting someone as experienced and at the top of his game as Yusuf is a genius coup. On the other hand, Yusuf could have left on a free had he not signed an extension at the start of the season, so it’s no loss to Inter either, who have nicely profited off this transfer. 20 million is a lot of money to fund the youngsters in the squad, the ones Yusuf and Nichi worked hard to mentor.

Taking all these factors into account, it’s a very well calculated move on Yusuf’s part. Nile tries to dig around for Nichi’s side of the story and he only reveals that Yusuf made the move with his full consultation. There was no way Yusuf would have gone without Nichi’s blessing. The two of them have had The Conversation for years, so they were always prepared—what if one of them gets sold, what if the other gets transferred. They’ve plotted ways for their relationship to survive while they play for opposing teams. They’ve obsessed over these hypothetical scenarios for so long, all sorts of worst-case doomsday prep that Nile begins to wonder how they experience joy in their relationship.

“This is the best possible outcome for him. He was only supposed to be a loan, you know, and then somehow it became eight years at the club, which is longer than what anyone should have allowed. Let’s face it—as much as we were partners on the field, I was always holding him back. He would never be first in line for captaincy as long as I was there—and that’s what Barça offered him that sealed the deal for me.”

Nichi speaks about it in sacrificial terms, but he’s also a guy whose captaincy has been marked by dramatic moments of self-sacrifice. Just because he’s proven time and again that he can withstand inhuman amounts of pressure doesn’t mean he has to wear his armor all the time, especially during private moments with his friends. Yet, this is the Nichi they have in front of them, with his steely, unbreakable resolve and unshakeable faith in his own reason.

Booker’s just… concerned about the sad dog. Nichi brought Cesare to Yusuf’s place to hang out while he combs through the house to remove his things, since the movers will be coming by in a few days to ship everything else off to Barcelona.

On arrival, Cesare immediately sensed that something was wrong, and went into a stubborn meltdown. At the very least, they have to find a way to get Cesare back to Nichi’s place before the movers come by.

Booker asks to see the dog, and Nichi leads them to the bedroom, where Cesare apparently hasn’t moved from Yusuf’s pillow the entire day.

“You know, I’m training Webster to be a therapy dog,” Booker announces to Nichi, as Webster follows them obediently into the room.

Cesare notices their presence—he looks up from the pillow and gives a half-hearted warning growl, but then returns to moping.

Some sort of wretched noise escapes from Booker the moment he sees Cesare wallowing. “Oh, poor baby,” he coos, crouching down next to Cesare. “ _Poor baby._ ” He holds his hand over Cesare, as if asking for permission to touch him. Cesare nips at Booker’s hand with annoyance, and Booker withdraws it.

At this, Nile feels Nichi’s eyes on her, and he gives her a bemused expression. “Guess I’ll leave them to it,” he says, before ducking out of the room.

Nile decides to chase after Nichi. “Hey,” she calls out after him. “Are you okay? I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I’m fine,” Nichi says, waving off Nile’s concern.

 _Are you? Are you really though?_ Nile thinks. She opens her mouth to speak, but then she is met with the coldest expression she’s ever seen on Nichi—his eyes so steely it glimmers with a warning flash of anger. In that moment, she’s so stunned she almost falls over on her own feet. Is this what Booker means when he says the captain has a way of looking at you that sends all the demons scattering back into the corners of hell they crawled out from?

 _Okay, okay,_ Nile thinks. She’s not gonna push it with the captain, who probably thinks she’s being the obtrusive American here. She gingerly peeks into the bedroom, where Webster has pressed his head close to Cesare’s, and his big fluffy paws are resting on top of the rottweiler’s slender tan paws.

Booker spies her at the door and he beams with pride that their baby has connected with Cesare and seems to be providing some sort of comfort. Nile wonders if she should take a picture of the scene before her, but then she realizes that it might be cruel for Yusuf to find out just how much Cesare is suffering. Eventually, Booker gets up from beside the bed, and they leave the two dogs together while they go look for Nichi.

Nichi is arranging the contents of the fridge and pantry into repurposed fruit cartons to load into his car. He’s taking them home since the movers will not deal with food items.

“Feel free to take the food stuff home, if you want,” Nichi offers.

“Can I have the olive oil? And hey, you know what? I can cut you a deal over that—“ Booker says, with a nod at the espresso machine sitting on the counter. “Let me take it home, and you’ll never see the thing again.”

Nichi’s lips curl into a wry smile. “Nice offer,” he begins, “but I actually like it. And my mom wants the olive oil. Good try though.”

“You like it?” Booker asks, taken aback.

“I’m not allowed to comment on it in front of Yusuf and that includes saying that I actually like it. It’s just a pain in the ass to maintain,” Nichi explains.

Booker whips his head around to give Nile a confused and shocked face, like he never expected that from the captain. Nile doesn’t want to admit it, but her first thought on seeing Booker’s face is of Pikachu, and then she thinks about the deformed Pikachu plushie Yusuf gifted her (which is now sitting on her desk at work because Booker didn’t want it around the house) and something in her chest tightens.

It’s not like they’ll never see Yusuf again! And they can always contact each other anytime they want, thanks to modern technology. It’s just a somber kind of day, which makes missing someone all the easier and all the more painful.

While Nichi is busy taking out the trash for discarded items, Booker makes an attempt to steal the olive oil but is caught red-handed as Nichi returns.

“What’s so special about the oil?” Nile asks.

“It’s from Yusuf’s grandma’s farm,” Nichi explains. “Completely organic, grown the traditional way. Hand harvested by women only.”

“Oh wow,” Nile says. “Now I wanna try some.”

“You know what?” Nichi says, looking at the plain dark green bottle. “You can have it. Booker’s not allowed, that’s all.”

“Yass,” Nile replies triumphantly, and then sticks out a tongue at her husband.

Stung by the rejection, Booker tells them that he’ll “go play with the dogs.” It turns out that the dogs have fallen asleep, and when Nichi tries to wake them up Cesare seems to have forgotten all about his sorrow and excitedly jumps up and follows Nichi into the car.

“That…solves it,” Booker comments, sounding amazed.

“Let’s get more puppy playdates going,” Nile tells Nichi, as Cesare eyes them beadily through the car windows.

“Okay,” Nichi casually replies, and then runs back into the house to grab Yusuf’s pillow. “For Cesare,” he explains, when he sees Nile staring at him.

“Ciaociaociao,” Nichi says, the trunk of his car loaded and ready to go.

“Ciao,” Nile and Booker reply.

“Ciaociaociaociao,” Nichi mutters distractedly as he opens up a door to toss Yusuf’s pillow to Cesare in the back seat, before climbing into the driver’s seat.

On noticing the pillow, Cesare seems to instantly recall that his favorite person in the world is missing, and Cesare begins kicking up the biggest, noisiest fuss. From outside the car, Nile can hear him scrabbling and whining pitifully.

“Oh nooooo,” Nile gasps, as she feels Booker’s hand searching for hers. She gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh nooo,” Booker echoes. Webster has also heard Cesare’s whining, and he’s trying to run after the car. Booker has to use all his strength to restrain their dog, who releases his frustration with a couple of sonorous barks into the fading twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of Cesare as Nicky's id, and...yeah 💔😭😵
> 
> Italian lyrics to the [Luca version of You Are My Sunshine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qCSGkCryDc). I'm not even gonna lie, I am SO desperate to know what Disney/Pixar's Luca is about bc I think Yusuf and Nicolò might really...connect with the story on some level...it's set in Liguria ffs.
> 
> Old English Sheepdog make [wonderful therapy dogs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzCTTX8yzgU)! They have a [wonderful temperament](https://www.akc.org/expert-advice/lifestyle/english-sheepdog-excel-as-therapy-dogs/)! The major downside is the serious grooming requirements which Booker can happily afford.

**Author's Note:**

> ...to be continued! You can find me as victimhood on Tumblr, where I frequently post WIP/angst about writing this fic under the tag #TOG FC
> 
> \+ if there's anything I got wrong, please do not hesitate to contact me and I'll try my best to make corrections. TY for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nightly Wonders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954776) by [specialisthalstead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialisthalstead/pseuds/specialisthalstead)
  * [The Beautiful Game: Date #3 (bonus scene after Chapter 18)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798422) by [anonymonypony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymonypony/pseuds/anonymonypony)




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